XMen: Nyx
by Kabeiroi
Summary: Dara Gibson is a girl who doesn't want to be found. A mutilated and experimented on mutant, Dara tries to flee the X-Men, but right as she begins to trust them, a horrifying accident sends Dara fleeing to her friend Magneto. Not comicbook Nyx!


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Disclaimers page for character copyrights. This was inspired by my earlier work, _Meeting the Wolverine_. This is comic-verse X-Men, and takes place post _X-Files: Unnatural Selection_ & pre _Tigress._ There are references to other stories here, but those haven't been posted yet. And yes, there are some time inconsistencies, but I don't think you'll have any problems. And, just so you know, I had to guess what had happened in the comics (i.e. Wolverine going back to the Weapon X facility).

Another very old story.

THIS IS NOT THE COMIC BOOK NYX!!! LET ME MAKE THAT VERY CLEAR!!!

NYX

By Chiyome

JULY 31, 2001

SOMEWHERE IN NOTHERN CANADA

10:01 PM:

A biting wind spiraled through the pines, hissing and moaning as it knocked loose snow off the branches of the trees overhead, snapping them like whips, making them snarl against each other, against the sleet that coated their needles.

The tiny grains of ice grated against her cheek and the girl snorted, squeezing her eyes against the onslaught. Grimacing, she shifted her huge bag over to her right shoulder, freeing her tired left arm and quickly wiping away the prickling on her face.

Readjusting the wool scarf once more around her face, the girl quickly plunged her hand back into her coat pocket. She glared bitterly skyward at the dancing beams of light overhead, deciding for the hundred thousandth time since she arrived in the country, that she hated Canada.

"Shouldn't be this frickin' cold in July," she seethed, stomping her leaky boots against the icy, cracked pavement. "Shit … I shouldn't be this frickin' far in the first place."

Hopping a bit to catch her duffel before it slid off her arm, the girl turned around, walking backwards against the wind's assault, her teeth chattering violently.

The heel of her boot caught a crack, but she didn't notice until she stumbled; her feet were dangerously numb now.

"Shit," she growled, straightening herself up. Dropping her bag on the ground, the girl sat down and undid the laces and Velcro with trembling, half-frozen fingers. Freeing one foot, she furiously massaged it, rubbing her gloved hands over it as quickly as possible. When the faintest tingle returned, the girl shoved her foot back in the boot, hastily tying the laces and slapping the Velcro back together.

She freed the other foot, massaging it quickly and shoving it back into the boot as fast as possible. She didn't exactly have the time to sit around and wait for her feet to thaw out.

She winced as she redid the laces, remembering an old Jack London story she had read once, though she didn't remember when. It was something about an unnamed man and a trail dog, hiking through … through …

"The Yukon," she murmured, wondering why it came to her so clearly. But it _was_ the Yukon, and the unnamed man had gone out even though people told him not to, because when the temperature plunged below zero, a man was as good as dead out there.

The man hadn't listened, and naturally, froze to death, though he had tried everything in his power to survive.

The girl bit her chapped lower lip; she wouldn't freeze. No, she couldn't, because she had to keep moving, and she was a survivor and she wasn't about to give in to the cold, dammit!

Snarling, she stood, ignoring the vivid curl of her breath as it snaked out into the air. Snatching up her duffel, the girl trudged on.

Covering two more miles, the girl dropped her bag again and bent over, her hands on her knees. Dear God, she couldn't keep this going much longer.

She shook her head. "N-No," she stammered, forcing herself to stand up. "Gas station … not far. You saw the sign. Just … a little more …"

Swallowing hard, she reached for her bag. She'd try one more mile at least, then she'd give up. For now. She was cold and hungry and she hadn't slept in three nights. She needed to take a break.

But she had to keep moving until then.

The girl didn't get far before she heard the rumble, and felt the road beneath her feet quake. Her heart started to hammer in her chest, and she gave a strangled cry of panic, wheeling around to see-

A freight truck.

"Oh, _God,"_ the girl wheezed, clapping a hand to her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, and forced herself to relax, to slow her racing heart.

Maybe she could get a lift.

"Hey!!" she screamed, her voice muffled by her scarf. Yanking it away in irritation, she yelled again, waving her arms over her head and squinting in the bright white glare of the eighteen-wheeler.

It wasn't until the truck coasted to a halt beside her did the girl realize what a stupid mistake she might have made. The driver might recognize her, or, worse yet-

"_Bon soir, mademoiselle,__"_ the trucker shouted, leaning across the seat and flinging open the passenger door.

"_Bon soir, monsieur,__"_ the girl replied, trying her best to remain calm. _"__Parlez vous englais?__"_

"Yep," he answered, his face splitting into a wide grin. "What's up?"

"I-I need a ride," she said, looking uneasily into the truck's cabin. O-kaaaay, he didn't _look_ like a psycho. "Just to the gas station? Please?"

"Why not?" the trucker said, still grinning. He beckoned her into the cabin. "Hop on in."

"Thank you!" Tossing her bag inside, the girl scrambled into the truck, slamming the door shut behind her. She began to buckle her seat belt, but then decided against it; if she had to make a run for it, the belt was going to slow her down.

Still not completely trusting the driver, the girl placed her duffel bag between him and her. With that gut on him, if he wanted to try something, he was going to have a hard time squeezing over her bag.

The trucker seemed polite enough, making small talk with her until they reached the gas station. As he filled the gas tank, the girl bounded out of the truck's cabin and dashed into the dirty, decrepit convenience store. Buying some snackage for the rest of the hike, she hurried back out, finding the driver as he paused to light a cigarette by the gas pumps.

'_Not the brightest dude in the world,'_ she thought, frowning.

The trucker glanced at her as she clambered back into the truck. "You plannin' on headin' to Alberta? 'Cuz, I'm on my way there …"

"Uh, no, I'm okay." She smiled sheepishly as she crammed the candy and crackers and bottled water into her duffel bag. "I'm just gonna shove this stuff in my bag and take off."

"Where you goin', anyways?"

"Um …" She shrugged. "North."

The trucker arched an eyebrow. "Kind of a long walk, eh?"

"Yeah, but I'll be okay." Zipping the bag up, the girl shouldered the duffel, waiting for the driver to swing up into his seat beside her. "Thanks for the ride. I could pay you …?"

Drawing the cigarette out from between his thin lips, the man exhaled, the smoke clouding up the truck's cabin. "Tell you what," he drawled, glancing at her. "You can gimme a kiss, an' we'll call it even."

'_I KNEW it!!'_ her mind screamed, and the girl froze, shocked by the proposition. "I uh, I-I don't think so …"

"C'mon …"

"No!"

"Just one!"

"NO!!"

She spun away from him, her gloved hands scrabbling for the passenger door's release.

"Just an itty bitty one," the driver pressed, lashing a hand out and catching her by the wrist.

"_Why won't you STOP?!?!!"_ the girl began to shriek, but her words were swallowed up by a beastly snarl.

Startled, the truck driver yelped, dropping his burning cigarette onto his crotch. He jerked away in horror, his mouth opened to scream as the girl wheeled around in her seat, her eyes horrifyingly yellow and slitted, her skin turning into a mottled green-blue, new fangs flashing in the dull light of the truck's dashboard.

The girl screamed in a twisted rage and she lunged, lashing out with suddenly clawed hands. Catching the trucker by the shirt collar, she slammed into him, snarling angrily as he shrieked in terror.

Behind him, the driver's side door gave away, swinging aside and sending both the monstrous girl and the driver plummeting to the icy pavement.

Almost unaware of what she was doing, the girl slapped the driver across his face with the back of her hand, knocking his whiskery chin aside and giving her enough room to strike, to latch her fangs into that sweaty, dirty throat.

Almost sobbing in terror and pain, the truck driver screamed, beating his meaty fists into her ribs, begging her to stop, stop it, he's only a man, he wasn't going to do anything bad to her, he didn't want to die, oh please, oh please, don't kill him, he didn't want to die!!!

The girl's pointed ears pricked and she stopped snarling. Her eyes widening, she released her hold on the trucker, gagging and spitting out his blood that had only begun to sate her stabbing hunger.

Her chest constricting, the girl scrambled off of the man, tripping over his feet and landing hard on the concrete. Horrified, she stared at the man, watching as he wailed and tried to staunch the flowing wound with a weak hand.

Suddenly, she realized what she did.

"Oh no …" She shook her head wildly, her loose, light hair slapping her face and sticking to the blood that drenched her face and the front of her shirt. "No … oh, oh God!!"

Pushing herself to her feet, the girl leapt back into the truck with one fluid movement. Snagging her duffel bag with one talon, she hefted the bag up easily and lunged, fairly flying over the huddled man on the ground.

"I'm sorry!!" she cried as she tore out of the gas station, across the road, and into the dark woodland beyond.

******************************************************************************

AUG. 1, 2001

4:31 AM

WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK

XAVIER'S INSTITUTE FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS:

"Huuuh!"

Gasping, Charles Xavier sat bolt rightup in his bed, his eyes flying open in terror, then squinting against the river of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Confused, Xavier impatiently wiped the sweat away from his face, ordering himself to calm down, take a few deep breaths. But those breaths hitched in his throat, and he choked, coughing and wincing against the tightness in his chest.

He frowned, then winced again, raising a shaky hand to his throat, half expecting fang marks to be present there. Of course, there weren't any, but that didn't reassure Xavier in the slightest.

He didn't have a nightmare; he had a vision.

Xavier drew in another breath and held it, wondering briefly if he should wait for Jean to come to his room or not. She always came when he had nightmares or visions; she felt them at the same time he did.

Normally, Xavier would have waited for her, but this time, he decided not to. Dragging himself into the hoverchair beside his bed, Xavier sped towards Cerebro, repeating what he had seen over and over again in his mind.

Reaching the huge machine, Xavier keyed for the digital map of North America, then reached for the headset.

By the time Jean and Cyclops found him there, Xavier had already scribbled out the coordinates.

"Jean," he said, not bothering to look at his visitors. He held the notepaper out to Jean, all the while examining the glittering gold spark as it wound its way through Northwestern Canada. "Assemble a team. I've found her."

******************************************************************************

1: 34 PM

THAT DAY

ABANDONED WEAPON X FACILITY

NORTHERN CANADA:

Keeping a firm grip on the Blackbird's copilot chair, Wolverine leaned forward in his seat, straining to see the rubble beneath the circling jet. "Whatta surprise," he snorted, exhaling the last remnants of his cigar. "My favorite place on the whole goddamn planet …"

Beside him, Jean Grey frowned, though not because of his attitude. "I'm sorry, Wolverine," she said, checking the scanner for a suitable landing spot. "I wouldn't have brought you here, but … but the Professor insisted--"

"'_Insisted'?"_

"Well …"

Seeing her floundering, Nightcrawler quickly leaned forward in his seat. _"__Herr Professor_ thought it would be best if someone who knew the area came with us," he said.

Jean managed a brief smile of relief. "That, and he was afraid this mutant wouldn't trust us. She might attack us, and the Professor thought it'd be better if we had some muscle on the team."

"So why's Frenchie with us?"

Behind him, Gambit gave the back of Wolverine's chair a withering glare. "Gambit's 'ere t' pour on de charm, _mon ami.__"_

Wolverine grunted, snubbing out the stub of his cigar. "Great. This mission's a failure already."

Jean sensed Gambit opening his mouth to reply, but Nightcrawler thankfully shook his head, mouthing for Gambit to just forget it.

Sighing, Jean keyed for the Blackbird to go into hover mode. "There's no place to land," she said, unbuckling her seat belt and standing up. "We'll go down and search on foot. The 'Bird's computer will scan for any new mutants in the area."

Sullenly, Wolverine unbuckled his belt and stood, following Jean, Nightcrawler, and Gambit to the elevator lifts.

With the added combinations of tall pine trees and the burnt out husk of the old Weapon X facility, the snowdrifts weren't deep. Still, they made a lot of noise as they trudged through the icy snow, and Wolverine's frown grew deeper; he'd bet anything that the kid would light out as soon as she heard the footfalls.

He stifled a weary sigh; despite his obvious loathing of this place, Wolverine understood that he was just going to have to grin and bear it. There was girl out here who was badly frightened and needed help.

"But why come here?" he murmured, raising his head to glance at the shattered concrete walls.

Jean glanced over her shoulder at him. "You say something, Logan?"

"Huh? Oh, uh …" Uncomfortable, Wolverine shrugged. "Just thinking out loud."

Not really believing him, Jean glanced at Nightcrawler and Gambit, who shrugged sympathetically.

Setting her jaw, Jean turned to Wolverine. "Logan, if you don't want to be here …"

"We're wasting time," he interrupted, averting his eyes. Plunging his hands into his pockets, he trudged forward, stepping around Jean. "Let's keep moving."

Jean didn't reply, and Wolverine was infinitely grateful. Coming to this place was harder than he ever imagined, and he was trying his best not to flip out right there and then.

As they walked gingerly over the snow, Wolverine paused, studying the bent, rusted metal doors creaking pathetically along one wall. Curious, he summoned up his courage and took a cautious step forward, his eyes narrowing at the deep marks on the metal.

"Hey, Jeannie," he called, reaching out to touch the grooves on the rust. He glanced at her briefly as she staggered towards him. "Lookit this."

Jean blinked, not knowing what she was looking at. "What is it?"

"Claw marks." Wolverine ran his finger along a rip in the metal, frowning at the dust that gathered on his fingertip. "New ones. Somebody tore these doors open."

Jean grimaced, reaching out and spreading the fingers of one hand, matching them up with each individual claw mark. "That's a helluva spread."

"How old is this kid we're looking for?" Wolverine asked, carefully pulling one of the doors back, revealing a dark, dank--and empty--cave-like room.

"Seventeen, or eighteen," Jean replied, straightening. "I'm not exactly sure. Her name's Dara."

"D'ya know why she's campin' out at the cabinet o' Dr. Caligari?" Wolverine asked, disappointed with his discovery.

Jean didn't flinch as he allowed the facility door to swing shut, thundering loudly in the wintry air. "I'm not exactly sure … Charles didn't fill me in on a lot of details."

Frowning, Wolverine turned to face her, and--

"Waitaminute." Startled, Wolverine looked about himself. Confused, he stared at Jean. "Where the hell did Kurt an' the Cajun go??"

*

"Nice an' cozy," Gambit commented, arching an eyebrow at the tiny campsite built in the hollow of a shattered guard tower. "Ye jes' need a trip wire right 'bout 'ere, an' …"

Not paying any attention to him, Nightcrawler cautiously poked his head into the tiny pup tent propped up against the fallen guard tower. _"__Guten Morgan!_ Anybody home?"

Naturally, no one was inside the tent. A little relieved, Nightcrawler drew out of the tent and stood. "Nada."

Gambit shrugged, bending a bit to inspect the kettle someone had hastily dropped on a fire that was rapidly burning itself out. "Ah guess they were jes' sittin' down t' dinner."

"Then she can't be far." Resolving himself to finding the poor girl, Nightcrawler circled around the camp, only half listening as Gambit commented on the fact that it was amazing that the girl made it this far north without a single weapon, and--heyyyy, animal crackers!!

Smirking, Nightcrawler stepped around Gambit, wandering around the half of the guard tower that was left standing.

"Aha!" he cried triumphantly. "Gambit, _mein freund,_ I believe this is what you Americans would call a 'Bingo' moment!"

A half full bag of animal crackers clutched in one hand, Gambit vaulted fallen pieces of concrete, racing across the snow to Nightcrawler. "What?? What is it?"

Grinning, Nightcrawler pointed in front of him. "Footprints! Fresh ones, in fact!"

"_Mon Dieu!__"_ His own face splitting into a smile, Gambit clapped Nightcrawler heavily on the shoulder. "Good work, elf! Lemme call Jeannie ova 'ere--"

Nodding absently, Nightcrawler walked on ahead, studying the sloppy footprints as they raced along the ground, heading to a grove of pine trees that fenced in the old Weapon X facility.

Nightcrawler wasn't as apt at reading tracks as Wolverine was, but it was obvious that these tracks were new; the girl must have heard them as they were walking around the building, and took off.

He frowned; what was this girl's mutation, exactly? What was it that made the girl so frightened to be around other people? Why did she flee at their approach? The Professor hadn't divulged any details, but he had made it clear that the girl was _not_ to be underestimated.

Setting his jaw, Nightcrawler continued on, deciding not to wait for his teammates. If he could spot the child first, he could always teleport back and tell the others where she was.

Glancing up to the grove of pines, Nightcrawler wondered if the girl was somewhere in there, watching them from the security of a high branch--

"Oof!!"

His yellow eyes widening in a panic, Nightcrawler swung his arms wildly to regain his balance, staggering in the snow and momentarily cursing his sudden clumsiness.

Shaking one foot free, Nightcrawler turned to see what he had tripped over. He blinked, startled, at the brown leather boot laying askew in the ice.

"_Was ist das?__"_ Nightcrawler stooped down and plucked the boot out of the snow, holding it up to eyelevel. It was a woman's boot, roughly the same size of the tracks behind Nightcrawler. Bunched up inside was a thick, woolen gray sock.

Arching an eyebrow suspiciously, Nightcrawler turned around, towards the grove of pines. Several feet in front of him was another boot, and another gray sock lay half hanging out of it.

"Why did she take off her boots?" Nightcrawler murmured, gathering the second boot and sock. As he bent to retrieve the shoes, his eyes wandered to the tracks before him.

He blinked, then shook his head again, bending closer to inspect the prints. Like something out of a bad werewolf movie, the human footprints became elongated, the toes stretching further apart, claws slicing perfect triangles into the snow.

Swallowing hard, Nightcrawler quickly reached for his two way radio. "Uhhh … Gambit? You there?"

"Gambit 'ere, _mon ami.__"_

"Jean and Logan too?"

"Well, Jean's 'ere, but half-pint seems t'be on another planet. Whassup?"

"I'm near the forest … I've been following the girl's tracks … but …"

"But what?"

Not knowing how to explain it, Nightcrawler shrugged helplessly. "They changed!"

"_What?"_

"They--they don't look human anymore."

There was a pause in the communications, and Nightcrawler held his breath.

After a moment, Gambit spoke again. "Logan wants t'know what dey look like."

"What they _loo_k like?" Puzzled, Nightcrawler scratched the back of his head. "I dunno … like a three ton chickadee scurried through here."

There was another pause, and Nightcrawler glanced over his shoulder. He was surprised how far he had walked from the old facility. Three dark figures were clumped together by the fallen guard tower, and one of them waved to him.

"Elf, ya hear me?"

"Go on, Wolverine."

"I don't wantchya to go inta th' woods, y'hear me? Not without one o' us."

"But--"

"Listen to me, elf! I gotta bad feelin' 'bout this. Don't go inta th' woods!"

Frowning, Nightcrawler sighed in disgust. "I'll wait for you at the edge of the woods, okay?"

"Kurt--"

"Look, this wind is cutting me like a knife! I need to find some cover, all right?" With that, Nightcrawler signed off.

Shivering once, he stomped forward, trying hard not to look at the monstrous footprints beside him.

Reaching the grove, Nightcrawler circled around the first big tree he saw, ducking behind the huge trunk and heaving a breath of relief, as the wind seemed to disappear.

Pausing for a moment, Nightcrawler took the laces of the boots and tied them together; he should hang onto them until he found the girl. She must be half frozen by now.

Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped, and a torrent of snow cascaded to the ground. Startled, Nightcrawler's head snapped up. He watched with baited breath as the powdery snow settled around the base of the pine, and--

"Gah!!" Nightcrawler felt all his fur stand on end as the brown creature plummeted to the ground, flopping pathetically on the pile of snow.

Gasping, Nightcrawler scrambled to his feet, thoughts racing through his head. There she was! Was she hurt? Why didn't she get up? Was she scared?

Why was she so small?

Realizing what it was, all of the breath rushed out of Nightcrawler's lungs, and, a little embarrassed, he glanced about him to be sure that no one had witnessed his squawk.

When he was satisfied that no one had seen him, Nightcrawler trudged forward, picking up the heavy suede jacket from the snow. He wiped the clumps of ice away from the sleeves, wondering why …

"Uh-oh."

His heart freezing in his chest, Nightcrawler slowly raised his head up, his widening in horror as a teal-colored tail curled away from his gaze.

Seeing the fang lined maw above him, Nightcrawler opened his mouth to shout--okay, okay, _scream_--at the bluish green, bat-winged, whip-tailed demon crouched on the branch above him, snarling viciously, its eyes a bloody red.

"Uh … uh …" Nightcrawler's heart jumpstarted, jarring loose his legs from the frozen ground. Slowly raising one hand, he began to back away. "S-s-sorry … D-don't be scared--I-I-I'm not gonna--"

With a head splitting shriek, the thing shot out of the branches of the tree, its wings unfurling and clawed hands outstretched for Nightcrawler's throat.

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" Fairly tripping over his own feet, Nightcrawler tore through the snow, forgetting that he was holding the boots and jacket, forgetting he could run on all fours, and forgetting that he could teleport away from the shrieking monster behind him.

"No, no! Waitaminute!! I don't want to fight you!!!" Nightcrawler cried, risking a look back at the furious creature as it tore through the woods. "I just want to talk!!"

The demon snapped its jaws at his tail, the sound eerily reminiscent of a bear trap slamming closed. Deciding that it _really didn't_ like him, Nightcrawler flung the jacket and boots back at the beast. "WAIT A MINUTE!!!"

With an infuriated scream, the creature pounced, launching itself like an arrow through the icy air.

Without thinking, Nightcrawler "bamfed".

*

Seeing the elf disappear into an implosion of light and smoke, Wolverine skidded to a halt, flinging his arm out to stop Jean Grey from racing past him. "Hold it!!"

"But--"

"_Sacre` Bleu!__"_ Gambit exclaimed, sliding across the ice-slicked snow. "Dere she is!"

Neither Wolverine nor Jean needed Gambit to point it out to them; snarling and snorting and shaking her head wildly as the smoke of Nightcrawler's teleport dissipated, the demon-like creature staggered forward, grimacing as she wiped the brimstone away from her eyes.

Wolverine almost unsheathed his claws, but caught himself; no sense in scaring the girl any worse than she already was.

"Jean," he said, narrowing his eyes as the girl dropped to all fours, like a feral animal. "Is that 'er?"

Wide-eyed, Jean nodded. "Yeah … that's Dara."

Gambit reached into his pocket and withdrew a deck of playing cards. "She looks like de Gargoyles in Manhattan."

Wolverine blinked, realizing that Gumbo there was right; the wings, the tail, the high, arched feet, the glowing eyes, everything about the girl screamed 'Garg'.

"Jean, _now_ would be good a time to fill us in on all the details," Wolverine growled, his muscles tensing as the mutant snarled at the team.

Jean opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by a thunderous "BAMF!!!". She gasped, jerking away as the indigo cloud unfurled over their heads, dropping still another demonic figure into Wolverine's outstretched arms.

"'Crawler?!"

"Logan!! It's--!!" Not noticing that he was cradled in Wolverine's arms, Nightcrawler spun around and pointed back across the snowy field. "She's--"

Seeing the X-Men distracted for a moment, the Gargoyle-like creature tore through the snow towards the team, screaming like a crazed banshee. Nightcrawler barely had time to register the creature's speed before Wolverine unceremoniously tossed the elf out of his arms.

"Hold it, kid!!" Wolverine roared, rushing forward to cut the mutant off.

"Wolverine, wait!!" Nightcrawler cried, spitting chunks of ice out of his mouth as Gambit yanked him to his feet. "She's--!"

Not slowing for a second, the mutant feinted to the left, skidding around Wolverine and screaming a challenge as he turned to intercept her. As soon as his back was turned, the mutant's whip-like tail cracked through the air, snaking around his ankles and jerking his legs right out from under him.

Nightcrawler cringed as he watched his friend go flying face first into the snow. _"--Fast."_

Snarling against the biting ice, Wolverine shoved himself up onto his knees, wheeling around just in time to see the mutant lunge, raising a fist and slamming it expertly across Gambit's chin. Nightcrawler yelped and ducked, giving the wild mutant a clear shot at Jean.

A strangled cry tore out of Wolverine's mouth and he shot to his feet, tearing after the mutant as she thudded to the ground before Jean.

Setting her jaw, Jean's hands quickly flew to her temples, and she focused, her eyes hardening as the girl began to stand.

"Ah!" With a cry, the mutant spun away, bounding away from Jean, gripping her head in both hands.

"Uff!!" Looking as though someone had punched her in the face, Jean reeled backwards, her hands clapping to her eyes. Losing her balance, Jean collapsed, her red hair engulfing her face like a living flame as she fell.

"Jeannie!!" Wolverine cried, not caring if he sounded panicked. Tearing through the snow like a wild man, Wolverine dove to her side, grabbing her wrist in crazed fear. "Are you--?"

Pulling her hands away from her eyes momentarily, Jean rolled away from him, sitting up uneasily. "I--I'm fine! I just--"

Her voice cracking, Jean looked up, at the mutant girl. Surprised, Wolverine followed Jean's gaze, and he blinked, staring at the Gargoyle-like mutant as she looked back at Jean. The girl's eyes were not glowing like they had earlier. Instead, deep blue eyes glazed with unshed tears peered out from under a mop of unkempt, dirty hair.

Swallowing hard, the girl took a step forward. "I--I--I didn't mean … I'm s--s--"

Suddenly, the girl's eyes widened fearfully, and she glanced at Wolverine, then Gambit who sat in the snow, staring at her in disbelief, then Nightcrawler, who very slowly began to stand up.

"Easy now, miss," he said softly, extending a three fingered hand to her. "We're not here to hurt you."

Ragged gasps ripped from the girl's chest, and she backed away, shaking her head wildly. At first, Wolverine thought she was frightened by Nightcrawler's appearance, and, feeling sorry for both of them, he began to rise to his feet.

"How did you find me?!" she screamed, her voice filled with terror.

Startled, Wolverine and Nightcrawler shot each other a baffled glance; she sounded as though she had been on the run from _them._

In one amazingly swift movement, the girl spun around, a flurry of snow exploding into the air as she ran, panicked, back to the Weapon X facility.

"Wait!!" Nightcrawler cried, and he shot forward, Wolverine right on his tail.

"Stop!" he shouted, vaulting the fallen guard tower. "We're th' good guys!"

That only seemed to make her run harder. She skidded around the Weapon X building and ducked into another stand of pine trees.

"That oughta slow 'er down," Wolverine huffed.

Nightcrawler narrowed his eyes. "Wolverine--why isn't she flying?"

That was a good question. Wolverine shook his head as he put on the speed. "Let's just be grateful that she's not!"

Snarling, he and Nightcrawler smashed through the low hanging branches, gaining on the girl as she clawed her way past the pine trunks.

Finally, exhaustion and rage overtook her, and, like a cornered animal, she spun around, her fangs bared and eyes shining a deadly red.

"Fine, you bastards!!" she screamed, her wings unfurling and her tail snapping angrily across the snow. "Come an' get me!!"

Startled by her sudden, vicious challenge, both Wolverine and Nightcrawler slid to a stop in the snow, gasping as the girl screamed and launched herself through the air.

With a growling cry, Wolverine ducked, reminding himself not to hurt the girl even as her ebony claws ripped along his forehead. Falling hard to the snow, Wolverine lashed out with his fist, feeling his knuckles connected with denim and muscle.

The girl half yelped in pain and surprise, half snarled in rage and fear. Catching a low hanging bough, she twisted her body around, lashing out her tail so it snapped brutally across Nightcrawler's chest, ripping open his jacket and flinging him back against a tree trunk.

"Uhh!" he grunted, air rushing out of his lungs. He was so dazed that he didn't even blink as the girl planted her dragon-like feet against the pine tree and pushed, rocketing herself toward him.

"KURT!!!" Wolverine roared, shoving himself to his feet as the elf looked up in shock, crying out as the girl slammed into him, her fangs snapping closed on his blue throat.

"_Scher dich zum Teufel!__" _Nightcrawler roared. Not pausing to think, he balled a fist and let it fly, striking the girl hard in the temple, hard enough to jar her loose and to send her tumbling through the snow and pine needles.

His own fangs bared, Nightcrawler shot to his feet, his pupil-less yellow eyes glaring at Wolverine. "She drank my blood! _SHE'S A VAMPIRE!!!"_

Suddenly, the girl hissed, rolling onto her stomach and spitting blood onto the snow. Her eyes glazed and the side of her head raw from Nightcrawler's punch, she snarled at Wolverine as he slowly approached her. " … Not my fault! They … _made me--!"_

"Listen, kid," Wolverine started, holding his hands out to show he that he wasn't going to hit her. "I don't know what th' hell happened to ya, but, believe me, we're gonna help you--"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Shrieking, the girl leapt to her feet, almost flying through the air as she lashed out her claws, screaming, _"Go to hell, you--!!!"_

With a startled snarl Wolverine lashed one fist out, his opposite hand automatically popping his claws.

He roared, striking the girl with more force than he needed. The girl didn't make a sound as she was flung through the air and smashed against a pine.

"Logan!!" Nightcrawler cried, his eyes popping open in horror. "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DID YOU DO?!!"

For a moment, Wolverine didn't reply. He stared at the girl as she lay slumped on the frozen ground, his chest heaving with ragged snarls and his clawed hand still partially raised to strike. Slowly, his rage faded, and Wolverine straightened himself, sheathing his adamantium claws. Swallowing hard, he pushed through the snow to the girl, worrying that he might have really hurt her.

Kneeling beside her, Wolverine cautiously extended a hand, touching the side of the girl's throat, finding a weak and irregular pulse fluttering beneath the skin.

Wincing, Wolverine sat back on his heels, staring uncertainly at the girl. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. Grimacing again, Wolverine glanced over his shoulder at the elf, who was wiping excess blood away from his clotting wound.

"Ya okay, misfit?" Wolverine asked, suddenly realizing that if Nightcrawler hadn't struck the girl when he did, he might have loss a dangerous amount of blood.

"_Ja,"_ Nightcrawler answered, sounding somewhere between disgusted and worried. _"__Fantastich__._ Is she all right?"

Not knowing how to answer that, Wolverine shrugged, glancing back at the still mutant before him. "I … don't know, rightly. She's hurt."

"_Wunderbar,__" _Nightcrawler sighed, drawing the sleeve of his jacket away from his left wrist, revealing the tiny two-way radio. "I'll call Phoenix and Gambit to let them know."

"Okay, elf." Frowning, Wolverine gingerly slid his hands under the girl's arms, gently lifting her up and into his lap, concerned by the way her head rolled on her neck. Suddenly, it occurred to him that the kid had been exposed to the freezing Canadian air for almost an entire hour with no jacket or shoes.

"Hang on there, kid," he murmured, holding her steady against his chest with one arm while he shrugged off his jacket. "I'll getchya warmed up in no time."

Still trying to be gentle, Wolverine drew the girl's leathery wings closed and hooked them under her chin, like he had seen Awen do before. Wrapping his coat around her, Wolverine began to stand up, hoping he wouldn't trip over her ta--

Surprised, Wolverine took a double take, blinking hard to clear his vision. A new worry crept into him, and, frowning, Wolverine gently lifted the girl's right arm, struggling to push her shirtsleeve away so he could see …

"2-27-83-BETA," Wolverine read aloud, his voice rising in anger as he realized what he was looking at.

It was a serial number.

**************

"Lesee here … clothes, clothes, clothes--" Pausing long enough to glance into a virtually empty wallet, Gambit tossed that aside too. "--Mo' clothes … books … a diary--"

"GAMBIT!!!" Slapping the autopilot on the Blackbird, Jean Grey shot to her feet and yanked the dirty canvas duffle bag out of Gambit's hands. "What do you think you're _doing?!"_

Looking only mildly startled by Jean's outburst, Gambit casually shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "Ah, de _fille_ don't mind none."

"She's unconscious!!" Jean shouted, ready to throttle the handsome thief. "She can't mind 'cuz she doesn't KNOW!!"

"Alright, alright!" Gambit replied, exasperated, throwing his hands into the air. "Yous convinced Gambit--he be puttin' de junk back, okay?"

Not truly satisfied, Jean turned away from him, disgusted. Frowning, she made her way to the back of the jet, past Kurt as he dozed in his seat.

Hearing her pass, Kurt jerked awake. "Aach--everything okay? _Was--"_

"Sorry Kurt," Jean murmured, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"S'okay," Kurt muttered, rubbing his eyes quickly and standing. "Is Logan still back there?"

Grimacing, Jean nodded, glancing back to the belly of the jet where they had interred the girl. "Yeah … I was going to check on him …"

"I'll come too."

Jean nodded, only half listening. At that moment, she felt her stomach twist into worried knots.

But whom was she worried for?

The girl … or Wolverine?

Deciding not to think about it, Jean led Kurt past the sliding door and into the hull where the girl laid silent and still on the medical bed, and where Logan sat, slumped in his seat, still staring at the black numbers tattooed on the girl's arm.

He didn't move when the door opened, but Jean knew better than to assume that he didn't know they were there. She swallowed hard as she walked up to him, forcing herself to be calm and emotionless; she didn't want to drop any hints to the theories that were brewing in Logan's mind.

"She's okay?" Jean asked, kneeling beside the bed.

Logan hardly nodded. "She's breathing easier now."

"Good." Tossing her red hair back, Jean checked the girl's pulse, then inspected her numerous bruises and cuts. "Seems to have healed up all righ--"

"Who is she, Jean?"

"Huh?"

"Drop the shit, Jean, _WHO IS SHE?"_

Taken aback though she was by Logan's snarling demand, Jean held her demeanor. She glanced with faked surprise at her teammate. "Her name's Dara Gibson, I told you--"

"You're hiding something," Logan said, his voice rising, all of the muscles in his shoulders tensing. "I knew it from the start. Xavier told you about her, didn't he? Told you that she was some sort of experiment--a mutant guinea pig, right?"

Inwardly, Jean shrank away; Logan was teetering dangerously on the edge of rage now, and though Jean wanted so badly to tell him, she held her tongue.

Maddened by her level gaze, Logan shot to his feet. "Look at her, Jean!! Look at those numbers on her arm--just try an' tell me that that's the latest teen fad these days!"

Behind Logan, Kurt shot Jean a baffled look.

Pretending to tire of the conversation, Jean sighed heavily and stood up. "Logan. Listen to me. You're tired. We all are. And we're all a little on edge and a little confused and worried. But that's no reason to start aiming for throats."

The tension in Logan's shoulders disappeared and he grimaced, rubbing his eyes in pain and exhaustion. "Ya doin' somethin' to me, darlin'?"

"Just releasing some endorphins," Jean said gently. She forced a tired smile onto her face. "Why don't you take a break, Logan? Xavier's promised to explain everything to us when we get back to Westchester. Okay?"

With a half-hearted snarl, Wolverine sank back into his seat, resuming his vigilant watch over the unconscious girl.

Hurt by the expression on his face, Jean turned away, beckoning for Kurt to follow.

Baffled, Kurt hesitated, glancing back at the girl briefly before bounding after Jean. "Jean--Jean, wait--"

"I can't tell you anything, Kurt," she replied, anticipating the questions before Kurt even voiced them. Waiting for him to step through the door, Jean keyed for the door to slide close. With a heavy heart, she stared at the closed door, envisioning Wolverine slumped in his seat, watching the girl …

Kurt blinked. "You read her mind?"

Jean drew in a deep breath and held it, closing her eyes and nodding.

"Again."

She nodded. "When I went to check her pulse, I tried to look into her mind again." Feeling tears burn in her eyes, Jean glanced at Kurt, then at Gambit, who stood, looking at her with concern and uncertainty.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, "How could anyone do that to a human being?"

7:04 PM

XAVIER'S INSTITUTE FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS

WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK:

"How long has she been out?"

"About four hours," Jean replied, straightening the blanket around the girl's shoulders as Beast fumbled for his stethoscope. "I think part of it's due to the fact that she usually sleeps during the day."

"Hibernates," Beast corrected, drawing out his stethoscope from his lab pocket with a flourish.

"Whatever."

Behind them, as Gambit and Nightcrawler struggled with the girl's duffel bag and the twisted remains of her pup tent, Wolverine slowly trudged out of the Blackbird's hatch, watching as Beast and Jeannie huddled around the girl, now laying on a stretcher from the 'Bird.

Wolverine frowned, pausing to watch Beast adjusted the stethoscope around his furry head, then carefully listen to the girl's heartbeat.

"Sounds like she has a little fluid on the lungs," Beast mused, shifting the stethoscope across the girl's chest. "Nothing to worry over, though …"

As Wolverine watched, he felt a tendril of worry snake through his gut. Something wasn't right; the girl, her breathing didn't seem even …

Satisfied with what he heard, Beast plucked the stethoscope out of his ears and smiled at Jean. "So far, so good. Let's take her down to the lab--"

Without warning, the girl's eyes shot open, glowing like fiery beacons in her skull.

Beast jerked back, gasping in horror. "What the--"

With a head-splitting shriek, the girl lashed out, moving so fast that Wolverine wasn't sure he saw it at first. He gasped as the girl screamed, raking her black claws across Beast's face, yanking free her other hand from the loosely fastened straps.

Snarling, the girl sat up and brutally backhanded Jean, sending the startled redhead flying back against the Blackbird.

"JEAN!!" Wolverine roared, springing from the hatch to her side, risking a brief glance at the beastly girl as she sat up in the stretcher, quickly flicking her shiny talons over the leather straps, slicing them cleanly off.

"_Mon Dieu!__"_ Gambit shouted, his coal black and red eyes widening in shock as Beast sat up, clapping a paw to the cuts on his face.

"I KNEW I should have tightened those straps!" he groaned.

Flinging the duffel bag to the startled Gambit, Nightcrawler sprang forward, "bamfing" across the hangar bay and right onto the stretcher.

With a strangled cry the girl flung herself backwards off of the stretcher, sending it rocketing a few feet back against the Blackbird hatch.

"_Schwhoops!__"_ Gasping, Nightcrawler bamfed again, landing this time on the Blackbird itself. _"__Fraulien__, _wait a minute!! We're not going to hurt you!"

Shoving herself to her feet, the girl snarled momentarily in Nightcrawler's direction before turning her attention to Beast. "YOU!!!"

Surprised, Beast stared at her blankly. "I beg your pardon?"

With a scream like grating metal, the girl pounced, slamming with all her might into Beast, knocking him flat on his back.

Like a mad woman, the girl straddled Beast's chest and tore into him, switching from claws to fists and to claws again, shrieking through choked roars, _"You bastard! YOU ASSHOLE!!"_

"Miss!" Beast cried, flinging his arms up before his face to shield himself from the attack. "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else!"

From where Wolverine crouched, trying to shake Jean back to consciousness, he saw the girl hesitate, her raised fist stopping in mid strike, the strength slowly oozing out of it.

Just as suddenly as she stopped her assault, the girl screamed and began again, her blows falling harder, ringing thunderously through the hangar.

Wincing briefly, Wolverine leapt to his feet, allowing Jean to slump to the ground. Baring his teeth, he tore across the hangar, clenching his fists but resisting the urge to pop his claws.

Finally, Beast couldn't take the beating anymore.

"Lady," he snarled, lashing his hands out and catching both of the girl's bloodied fists. "I'm going to have to ask you to kindly CEASE AND DESIST!!!"

With a brutal roar of his own, Beast lifted the girl off of his chest and flung her aside, as though she had been a rag doll.

Startled by Beast's sudden reaction, the girl gasped as she careened across the floor, her bloody claws slamming into the durasteel, leaving a long trail of metallic curls.

Not really knowing what he should do, Wolverine shot forward and grabbed the girl by her bicep, jerking her to her feet. "Okay, kid, _that's enough!"_

"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice cracking with panic. She tried to twist out of his grip, but when Wolverine refused to let go, she spun around again, her fangs bared, her fist raised--

Almost lazily, Wolverine slapped it aside, startling the girl. Catching her other arm, Wolverine held fast, yelling over the girl's head to Gambit as she twisted and struggled and screamed.

"Cajun!!"

"Comin'!" Catching the sedative Beast tossed him, Gambit bit down on the plastic cap and tore it off. Spitting it aside, he gave the hypodermic needle a test, squirting a bit of the medicine out and tapping away the bubbles. "Hold 'er, Wolverine--"

Seeing the needle gleaming in the neon light, the girl shrieked in terror. Energy surged through her and she sprang backwards, nearly taking Wolverine off of his feet.

"Hold it kid, calm down!!" he roared, tightening his grip.

Squeezing her eyes shut, the girl flung herself at him, startling Wolverine. Before he had a chance to jerk away, the girl barreled forward, ramming her spiked knee into his gut.

"Argh!!" Pain shrieked through him and Wolverine felt himself double over, felt himself let go of the girl as he clapped both hands to the gaping wound on his stomach.

The world spun dizzily as Wolverine pitched forward, landing hard on his knees. He tasted blood and bile as it boiled in his throat. Somewhere far away, he heard Gambit grunt as something slammed into him.

Suddenly, the hypodermic needle clattered into Wolverine's view, the vial pinging resoundingly in the hangar.

Before he could even lift his oddly heavy arms, the girl pounced, shooting in front of him and slamming her arched foot down on the sedative.

Grinding the shattered glass beneath her foot once, the girl turned away, her tail snapping loudly in the air.

Red stars exploded behind his eyes and Wolverine keeled over, biting back a snarling swear, watching as the girl staggered away from him, waiting for his healing factor to kick in.

Obviously exhausted, the girl pushed herself forward, stepping over a dazed Gambit, towards Beast and Nightcrawler and Jean, who had regained consciousness. They held their ground with mixed expressions, watching as the girl uncaped her wings, growling, "Let me out."

Jean swallowed once, but her voice was firm. "We can't."

"Bull shit."

"We _can't."_

The girl's hair seemed to bristle. Her muscles tensed. "Let. Me. Out. _Now."_

Nightcrawler arched a disbelieving eyebrow at the girl's tone as Beast and Jean shared a baffled look.

Wolverine ground his teeth together and choked back a growl of agony as his healing factor kicked into overdrive. Hissing, he rolled over back onto his knees, forcing himself to ignore the wound in his gut as it warped, scarring over and fading almost completely as he stood.

The girl's bat-like ears pricked, picking up the noise behind her. She gasped, spinning around in fright as Wolverine slowly stood up. Her eyes shot open in horror. "You--but _how--?"_

At first, Wolverine was too infuriated to reply in anything other than snappish growls. She almost gutted him …!

Not understanding, the once fearsome mutant backed away from Wolverine, bumping into Nightcrawler. She cried out and spun away from him, and would have run backwards into Wolverine, but she stopped short.

"I'm--I'm sorry," she stammered, her eyes flooding with tears. "I--I just want to go--!"

Surprised, Wolverine stopped, his snarl disappearing.

Choking on a sob, the girl stepped away from Wolverine, glancing nervously across the hangar as Gambit, having already recovered, made his way to the control room to phone for help. "I don't want to be here! You can't keep me here!"

At a loss for words, Wolverine glanced at Jean. The red-haired psychic didn't return the glance. She only bit her upper lip hard, watching with glazed eyes as the terrified girl backed herself into a corner.

Sliding back against the tiled walls, the girl slumped to the floor, folding her leathery wings around her body, as though they would shield her from the X-Men. "You _can't _keep me here! I'm _not _a lab rat!"

The very marrow in Wolverine's adamantium bones froze.

"What?"

Hearing his voice, the girl flinched, as though Wolverine had raised a hand to her. She peered out from under one blue-green wing, her eyes hateful and haunted. "A lab rat. I'm not a lab rat. I'm NOT A LAB RAT!!! I'M HUMAN!!!" The red glow roared back into her eyes and she screamed, jabbing a blood encrusted talon at Beast. "I know what you want with me! I know what McCoy wants to do! _You touch me again and I'll rip your goddamned lungs out, McCoy!!"_

Beast's eyes widened, and a furry hand clapped itself over his mouth. "Dear God …"

Bitter tears raced over the girl's cheeks. "I'll kill you … I'll kill Sevarius … and I'll kill _him …"_

Shaking his head wildly, Beast started forward, causing the girl to ram her back into the wall in terror. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!"

"D-Dara, I'm not--! You're not going to--!" Beast cried, his voice thick with horror. He tried to take another step closer to Dara, but Nightcrawler shot in front of him, planting his three fingered hands against Beast's chest and throwing his entire weight against the titanic Beast. _"__Nein, mein freund!_ She's terrified of you!"

Finally, Wolverine understood. He felt the blood drain from his face as he looked from Beast to Dara huddled in the corner. "Hank--ya don't think--"

Beast didn't seem to hear Wolverine. He only stared at Dara, sick with horror and disbelief.

Blinking away more tears, Dara arched an eyebrow, struggling to look fearless before the man she was so terrified of. "Y-you act like you've never seen me …"

"I_ haven't!" _Slowly, anger seeped into Beast's voice. "It wasn't me. I didn't do _anything!_ It was--

was--"

He fell silent, realizing that, technically, it _had_ been him.

Wolverine couldn't stand it anymore. Sucking in a steadying breath, he knelt down, a few feet from Dara, wincing as she cringed at the sight of him.

"Easy Dara," he said, struggling to keep his voice soft. "I won't hurt you."

She snorted scornfully at him. "Everyone I've ever met said that to me." Her lips parted in a brief, hateful smile. _"Now_ look at me."

_Touche`._ Wolverine smiled weakly. "I'm Logan--"

"Do I look like I _care?"_

His brow furrowed at the remark, but he pretended that he hadn't heard it. Instead, he turned and gestured to the people around them. "That's Jean, that's Kurt, that's Remy, and that's--"

She snarled viciously as he came upon Beast. _"I know who he is."_

Visibly hurt, Beast gave Dara a pleading look. "Dara, I'm not who you think--"

"Go to hell, _bastard."_

This wasn't going anywhere. Wolverine frowned briefly at the girl's attitude, though he admired her ferocity. "Dara … Dara, look; I was experimented on too."

Dara's head snapped around to look at him, almost startled. Nightcrawler and Gambit straightened, shocked, while Beast's shoulders slumped and Jean turned away, ashamed that she allowed Wolverine to figure it out.

The glow in Dara's eyes faded again, and she looked at Wolverine in confusion, then, gradually, hatred and resentment. "You were."

Wolverine nodded.

Slowly, Dara sat up, and immediately, Wolverine didn't like it. Something was wrong about her posture, the look in her eyes--

"Was it the same people?"

"It might have been." This wasn't right.

Dara glanced away, her defiance dying right before Wolverine. "What happened?"

'_Play along.'_ Wolverine thought. "It was … bad. Very bad."

She raised her eyes to his again, and, for a moment, her pain shone through.

"Yeah …?"

"Yeah … Dara, we didn't bring you here to hurt you."

A muscle in her cheek twitched. "Where am I?"

"In New York."

Her eyes widened briefly. "Really?"

"Yeah." Wolverine's unease was growing. "Look there's a man here … his name is Charles Xavier--"

"Xavier?" Dara repeated, her eyes flying open again. Shocked, she looked up to the group around them. "I--I got fliers from you guys a year ago …"

"So you know we're okay?"

Dara jerked back at the question. "'Okay?' Hardly!" Her fangs flashed again in the hangar's neon light as she glared hatefully at Beast. "That doesn't explain why _he's_ here."

Beast looked at her, wounded. "I--I think I can explain, Dara …"

"I don't want to hear it," Dara snapped, her voice cracking. "I don't …"

At a loss, Wolverine looked away, his eyes falling to the black numbers tattooed along Dara's arm. Seeing them made him angry again.

"Dara," Wolverine said softly, raising his eyes to hers. "If I promise to keep everybody away from you, will you come upstairs to meet the professor?"

Dara blinked, a shuddering breath escaping her lungs. "Ye--yeah. Okay."

Wolverine smiled gently, even though, deep inside, he knew that had been too easy. Still, he didn't want to rile the girl, so he slowly stood and waved the X-Men aside.

Keeping her gaze fixed on him, Dara rose shakily to her feet. Self-consciously, she gripped her right wrist, holding it against her chest so the X-Men couldn't see her serial numbers.

Wolverine gestured to the elevators at the far end of the hangar bay and, nervously, Dara nodded, walking ahead of him.

Wolverine followed close behind, his suspicions rising. He frowned as his animal side within him snarled, not trusting the frail girl before him.

"Huh!" In a flurry of wings, Dara spun around, her fangs gleaming and her eyes glowing red, her right leg raised and hooked, catching Wolverine in the temple and sending him flipping sidelong to the floor.

Wolverine didn't remember hitting the floor. His teeth clenched in a tight grimace, he slowly opened his eyes, wondering what happened.

Remembering--foggily, at first--Wolverine groaned and lifted a hand to massage the back of his head.

"I like 'er already."

*

Her breathing fast and ragged, Dara flung herself to the nearest elevator, digging her talons into the soft metal and muscling the door opened.

She snarled as her arms strained, as the thundering footsteps echoed in the hangar behind her. Seeing the doors creak open, Dara pushed herself through, yanking her tail in before the elevator could slam shut.

Her clawed feet slipped on the slick tiles, flinging her against the chrome walls of the elevator. She gasped, her eyes flying open in terror as she struggled to think.

A stray, distant memory flickered in her mind and she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to remember.

The memory came back, brief, but vivid. Swallowing hard, Dara opened her eyes and craned her neck up, spotting the escape hatch in the elevator's ceiling.

Crouching to the floor, Dara launched herself upward, startling herself by reaching the escape hatch on her first try. Slamming her palm against it, she knocked it out and swung herself up, into the cavernous interior of the elevator shaft.

The memory returned, and Dara instinctively jumped for one of the elevator cables, pulling herself up, climbing hand over hand up the shaft.

Even as her would-be kidnappers' voices rang below her, Dara didn't truly notice. As she clambered up the cables, Dara frowned, wondering how she could possibly climb this far without getting tired.

Was she taught this?

A thin gleam of light broke through her concentration. Almost delighted, Dara sprang, catching the edges of the doorway. Digging her claws into the crack, she pried the doors open, wincing at the harsh light.

Hissing, she bounded through the ruined doors, not immediately noticing the wood paneling around her, or the tall picture windows with sash curtains …

Or the sheet of ice that encased the Oriental rug below her.

"Wah!!" Dara's legs flew out from underneath her, throwing her hard to the frigid ice. She cried as pain zapped through her spine and as her breath was squeezed out of her lungs.

Momentarily dazed, Dara forced herself to roll over onto her hands and knees, gasping and choking hard, feeling the ice burn her palms.

Clapping a cold hand to her forehead, Dara looked up searchingly, looking for a way out of this madhouse.

Instead she found only an ice sculpture of a man returning her gaze with a cheery smile of his own.

He blinked. "Hi there."

Dara cried out in terror, struggling to stand but only tripping over own tail. Not knowing what else to do, she latched her claws into a wall, pulled herself upright, and ran for all she was worth.

Thousands of doors opened as she tore down the nearest hallway, spilling out startled mutants that moved to catch her as she ran past.

Panicking, Dara dove around a corner, bowling over a young Chinese girl wearing a bright yellow jacket.

"Hey!!" the girl roared, leaping to her feet. "What's the big idea?!"

At a loss, Dara just kept running, running faster down the corridor and unfurling her wings as another tall window loomed before her.

Flinging her arms up in front of her face, Dara threw herself through the window, hearing it shatter, feeling the glass tear through her clothing.

She hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum and springing to her feet. Seeing the sliver of the moon gleam down to her, Dara allowed herself a brief, bitter smile.

Nighttime. Her powers worked at their fullest extent at night.

Dropping to all fours, Dara ripped across the wet lawn, bounding towards a stand of trees, feeling her energy renew itself.

Charging through the trees, Dara tried to force out of her head the nagging terror that she didn't know where she was. What's worse, if she _was _in New York, the people here would recognize her instantly. Missing person flyers, as well as wanted posters, her face plastered to all of them, virtually littered the East Coast.

Dusting the glass shards from her sleeves, Dara craned her neck upward, peering through the break in the tree canopy to the sparkling stars overhead.

Doubt crept back into her mind and Dara shook her head, not wanting to believe it; she had heard that the Xavier Institute was a good school for young mutants …

But then, that's what they said about the "Essex University" as well.

Wiping sweat away from the odd brow ridges on her forehead, Dara stood upright again, grimacing at the mud that sucked at her taloned feet. She wanted to stop and wipe the tracks she left away, but she was too frightened; if she stopped for a minute, then they might find her.

Pushing her way through the underbrush, Dara felt the mud beneath her feet turn to sand. Surprised, she shook her feet off, glancing around at the glimmer of silver that lapped gently at the beach.

'_A pond,'_ Dara thought, blinking at the glitter of stars on the water. She grimaced; she couldn't swim, she didn't have the strength. And she couldn't fly, because she didn't know how. Circling around the pond might take too long.

Desperation surged through her, and Dara fought back a panic attack. She turned in a slow circle, squinting her eyes and perking her ears.

Hearing the hollow _thunk,_ Dara spun around, fearing that her kidnappers might have caught up with her. But when nothing charged her, Dara waited.

… _Thunk …_

There it was again! Dara turned and launched herself forward, on all fours, towards the sound, charging up the beach in an odd, bounding gait.

The sound became louder, and Dara slid to a halt beside a sapling. Bracing herself for an unwelcomed surprise, Dara warily peered around the tree.

Several yards before her sat a huge, darkened boathouse. A dock stretched out into the lake, and, tethered to one of the posts, a small boat bumped rhythmically.

Dropping her guard, Dara raced forward, leaping easily onto the boathouse's deck. Not pausing to marvel at her acrobatic feat, Dara sprinted down the docks, falling to her knees beside the last post and struggling to slice away the boat's tether.

Slowly, it occurred to her that the boat's thunking had developed an odd echo. Sensing a presence behind her, Dara snarled and wheeled around, her wings unfurling, her eyes glowing.

But nothing was there.

Surprised, Dara scanned the boathouse, remaining in her half crouch. Confusion began to set in; she could've sworn …

A flicker of movement appeared on the boathouse roof, and Dara gasped, terror surging through her as she looked up at the man, peering down at her from over the eves.

"Don't panic, kid," he called, waving a hand to her. "I just want to talk."

Dara felt her heart drop like a stone to her stomach; how had they caught up with her so quickly?

The man on the boathouse stood up, unfolding a pair of massive, feathery wings from behind his back. An amazed cry caught in Dara's throat, and her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the man calmly step off the roof.

His feathery wings unfurled, catching the wind as the man dropped, allowing him to drift gracefully to the ground. As he reached the boathouse docks, Dara could see that he had bluish skin, much like her own.

Not understanding, and forgetting her terror for a moment, Dara sprinted towards him, wanting make sure she wasn't seeing things.

She wasn't.

Seeing her approach, the winged man stiffened, as if bracing himself for an attack. "Are you all right?"

"I … n-no." The glow fading from her eyes, Dara stopped short a few feet from the man. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"You … you have …" she stammered.

The man arched a blond eyebrow. "What? Blue skin? Good looks?"

"Wings …"

"Oh yeah." Smirking a bit, he extended one wing, studying it. "Sometimes I forget that I have 'em."

Dara blinked. "I used to have wings like that."

Startled, the man's head snapped around, and he stared at her with a rather unreadable expression. Uneasy, Dara shifted, dropping her gaze to the slats of the docks. "I used to have feather wings … b-but, that was before … before they took them."

At first, the man didn't reply. Worried that he didn't understand, Dara risked another look towards his eyes. "After I was taken … they took m--my wings …"

"You mean …" Horror began to glaze the man's eyes. "Somebody took them … you mean, _amputated_ them?"

The words seem to cut at her much like those scalpels. Dara flinched in spite of herself. "Yeah … Then they gave me these." Grimacing, she flicked a black claw at one leathery wing. "I don't--I don't remember when …"

Sucking in a ragged breath, she raised her eyes to the man's. "You have blue skin, kinda like mine … were you … experimented on too?"

The question seemed to take the man aback, like he didn't know how to answer.

Suddenly, Dara wanted to change the subject. "Who are you?"

"Huh?" The man seemed to snap out of trance. He stared quizzically at Dara for a moment before remembering her question "O-oh! It's Warren … but everybody around here calls me 'Archangel'."

Dara nodded, understanding why. "I'm … I'm Dara."

Archangel smiled, and held out a hand. "Please t'meetchya."

Startled by the sudden movement, Dara jerked back with a cry.

Surprised, Archangel yanked his hand back. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you."

Dara looked at him incredulously, not knowing what to do or say next. She shouldn't even be talking to him; he might be working with the others.

But oddly, seeing someone else with discolored skin, with wings like those she had once possessed … it made Dara feel … _safer._

Swallowing hard, Dara slowly straightened. "Y--you can fly?"

Archangel nodded. "Yeah. Can you?"

Dara shook her head. "No. Don't know how."

Archangel's mouth tumbled open. "You're kidding me."

"Huh?"

"You don't know how to _fly?"_

Confused, Dara shook her head again.

Archangel blinked. "I could teach you."

"Teach me?"

"Yeah … that is, if you trust me. If you trust _us." _Archangel shrugged nonchalantly. "I heard what happened back at the Mansion …"

Hearing that, Dara recoiled in horror and sudden hatred. "You ARE one of them!"

"No, wait!" Archangel gasped, holding out his hands in a plaintive gesture. "No, wait, don't get confused; I know you're scared. I would be too, if I were you. But nobody here wants to hurt you. The X-Men just want to help you recover, y'know? Get strong again. Get you to see your family. Teach you."

Seeing the uncertainty on Dara's face, Archangel took a cautious step forward. "I know you don't have any reason to trust anybody. But it's dangerous out there for a mutant like you to be alone. We just want to help.

"If you still don't believe me, okay. We'll understand. But we're not the bad guys; we help people. And we want to help you."

Dara tore her gaze away from him, not ready to believe what he was saying. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "That man back there … he said he was experimented on too …"

"Yeah … and, Dara? I was too."

Astonished, Dara spun around to look at him, but Archangel averted his eyes. "I--I don't like talking about it too much … okay, _at all._ But, you should know … that you're not alone."

Dara's head spun. "D … do you know who did it?"

Archangel hesitated. "Yes."

"Does that man know?"

"We're … we're not totally sure who did it."

Dara felt her shoulders slump. She hid her eyes in her hand for a moment, struggling to think.

"I want to talk to Xavier."

Both of Archangel's blond eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Frowning, Dara drew her hand away from her face. "Yeah. I want to see him."

Looking surprised and pleased, Archangel gestured to the side of the house. "He's-he's out in front … He wanted to talk to you, but he knew you'd be scared … he sent me to … Oh, whatever! C'mon!"

Filled with despair, Dara slowly trudged after Archangel as he disappeared around the boathouse.

She was never going to escape them.

***

Cyclops had been assembling search parties on the Mansion patio when Wolverine saw the three figures across the lawn. Grabbing Cyke's arm, Wolverine spun him around and pointed.

Every voice fell silent as Charles Xavier's hoverchair glided softly over the wet grass. To his left, Archangel walked, glancing frequently over the professor's head. To the professor's right, the girl walked alongside the hoverchair. Her wings were folded, caped around her shoulders. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her head was bowed, her eyes staring straight down at the lawn.

"Good evening, everyone," Xavier said evenly. "There's no need to rush out. Everything's been taken care of."

The professor tried to sound calm, but Wolverine could tell, by the sudden shift in Xavier's emotions, in his scent, that all was not well.

Pausing to clear his throat, Xavier gestured to Dara, who turned away when she realized that their attention was now focused on her. "Dara's agreed to stay with us for a while. Warren and I will show her to a room. I'll meet all of you later."

Surprised, the X-Men shared puzzled glances before clearing the way for the Professor's hoverchair. Dara had to be gently herded in by Archangel.

Watching the trio disappear into the Mansion, Cyclops frowned and scratched the back of his head. _"That_ was strange …"

"I think it's only gonna get stranger, Slim," Wolverine growled, narrowing his eyes at Dara's back. "Beast didn't tell ya who we think's behind it yet, did he?"

"Not yet … why?"

Grimacing, Wolverine tore his gaze away from Dara, away from the other curious eyes around him. "Like I said … it only gets stranger."

******

Times like this, Xavier wished he had a larger office.

He studied the mutants as they pushed their way into his office, all wanting to know about the girl who was now curled into a corner in her room, crying miserably.

Xavier tried to name the mutants as they began to claim seats around his desk; Psylocke, Archangel, Gambit, Rogue, Storm, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Cyclops, Jubilee, Cannonball, Iceman, Thunderbird … Xavier started to lose track when the youngest students spilled in.

A sharp ache stabbed at his mind and, grimacing, Xavier rubbed his forehead. He glanced off to his right, where Jean sat beside Beast, trying her best to console him.

Beast was understandably distraught; his other half, the so-called Dark or Alter Beast, was involved. The Dark Beast had performed some horrid experiment on this new mutant, something heinous, monstrous … none of the X-Men knew how much the Dark Beast had done to Dara.

And now, Hank felt responsible.

A snarl ripped through the air, and Xavier lifted his eyes to Wolverine's own furious ones.

"Okay, Chuck," he snapped, tearing the stub of his cigar out from between his teeth. "We're all here. Now talk; what happened to her?"

Xavier knew he should have expected this from Wolverine; the mutant became riled if even the word 'experiment' was whispered in his presence.

And Wolverine, seeing something in Dara that Xavier would never be able to, had appointed himself as her new guardian. He felt as though Dara was a kindred spirit of sorts, and in dire need of an understanding companion.

But Wolverine needed more information.

Sighing, Xavier waved for Wolverine to sit. "I would have let you all known sooner about Dara," he said, aware that his voice suddenly sounded very tired. "But I hadn't expected her to react the way that she did when she arrived at the Institute.

"If you all are to understand who Dara is, I should start at the very beginning; her name is Dara Gibson. She's eighteen years old. She's from Cambridge, Massachusetts. She is the only daughter--and so far, only known mutant--in her family.

"When Dara's mutations first developed, she did not have the powers she has now; originally, she had bird-like wings, instead of the leathery ones we've seen now."

Hearing that, Archangel's own feathers ruffled, and Psylocke was quick to place a comforting hand on his arm.

Frowning inwardly, Xavier continued, "Her mutation allowed her to channel sunlight into energy. She used that energy to do everything from heal people of their illnesses and injuries, to create small, concise blasts of light from her hands.

"She was also slightly attuned to the emotions of other people; Dara could be in one part of her high school, and could sense the fear of another student being tormented by bullies in another part of the building.

"Dara was not bothered terribly about her mutations; in fact, she was sexually harassed more often by students then harassed for her mutations. She was actually rather proud of what she had.

"I had sent her several pamphlets about the school, in hopes that she would come here to learn. I was rather surprised when she turned me down; her letter stated that she had gotten offers from several other schools at the time, and she wasn't ready to make a decision.

"About two years ago, Dara went on a field trip with her English class. They were on their way to see a Shakespeare play, I believe. Whatever the case, they never made it there.

"According to her English teacher, the first school bus hit some sort of explosive that had been planted in the road they were taking. The bus was knocked onto its side, pinning the door to the ground. Most of the bus's left wall and floor were destroyed. Many people were hurt.

"Dara was trying to help her friends when something landed on top of the bus. A huge creature, most presumably a mutant, ripped the wall off the bus. It started to reach for Dara, but she and her teacher fought it off. A second mutant appeared and battered the teacher down before helping the first mutant capture Dara and drag her out of the bus."

Behind his red quartz glasses, Cyclops's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't she hit them with one of her blasts?"

Xavier frowned. "She tried," he answered, "but that day, it had been overcast. There wasn't enough sunlight for Dara to use."

"So whoever captured her did their homework," Iceman suggested, sharing angry and disgusted looks with Rogue, who had started to grow pale as Xavier spoke.

"Indeed," Xavier said, nodding. "They knew she would be at her weakest on a cloudy day.

"But whatever the matter, Dara could not fight these things off. The mutants dragged her into the woods along the side of the road, moving too fast for her friends to catch up.

"The police were alerted, and a state-wide manhunt was launched. They had hundreds of tips phoned into their stations; many came in the next day, when the sun appeared for a few hours. The informants claimed that they had seen a girl matching Dara's description--right down to her wings--running through backyards. Some of the tipsters said that they saw two large, strange looking men appear in the area afterward.

"Unfortunately, since it was late fall at the time, the days were shorter, and usually cloudy. Dara couldn't have been able to flee her kidnappers for very long, and she was completely helpless at night.

"About four days after the initial kidnapping, a so-called 'UFO' was seen lifting out of the woods near Quabbin Reservoir. It appeared on several airport monitors, and the Otis Air Force Base at Cape Cod actually pursued it. The pilots reported that it looked like a very large jet.

"Afterwards, there were no more reports of Dara, or the mutants."

Xavier paused, struggling to gather his nerve as the X-Men looked worriedly at each other. Nightcrawler murmured something in German as Wolverine raked his hand through his wild black hair.

Wolverine raised his eyes to Xavier's. "What happened then?"

"I … I don't know," Xavier admitted, feeling his frustration rise along with Wolverine's. "I'm not sure. The jet disappeared from all radar.

"For a year and a half, there were no clues as to what happened to Dara. The trail was dead. No one really knew what to do.

"Then, earlier this year, a motorist driving along a Massachusetts highway spotted what looked like trash along the side of the road. He stopped to pick it up, but then he saw that it was really a girl--Dara--wrapped up in a white sheet. She was unconscious, and looked, as the driver put it, like she had just been through a war. He panicked, and called 911.

"Dara was taken to a Boston Hospital. She was placed in the ICU, and a team of doctors was assigned to attend to her. They didn't think there was a lot they could do for her, but they studied what they could find and documented it.

"Through some psychic persuasion, I was able to obtain a copy of the file. According to the doctors, there were some obvious signs of experimentation performed on her; there was a serial number tattooed to her arm. Her wings were completely gone, amputated. There were surgical scars all across her body. She had grown at least six inches since she was last seen. There were odd, bony growths on different areas of her body, like on both of her knees, her elbows, and her forehead. She had had a slight vision problem before her abduction, but the doctors found afterwards that it had been corrected.

"Dara's mutation was altered; she is no longer able to heal people through touch. She can no longer channel energy from sunlight. In fact, its been proven that the sun affects her adversely; her skin burns at a alarming degree, and the light can temporarily blind her.

"The list goes on, but Dara could not account for the injuries. She said she couldn't really remember much, and, when pressed, became violently enraged and fearful. She developed a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder, and slight xenophobia. Dara became depressed, and her parents have said that she began to sleep during the day and stay awake at night.

"About five months ago, Dara had finally gotten the courage to go out with her friends again. But, I suppose this was a nearly fatal mistake; while waiting for a friend to find her car, Dara and her other friends were beset upon by some youths. The boys felt that Dara and her friends were invading their territory, but one of them recognized Dara as being a mutant. Dara, it seems, tried to talk her way out of a fight. But, when the boys wouldn't back down, Dara met them with some fighting techniques that her friends claimed they never saw before.

"Still, Dara was overwhelmed, and when the boys pulled out guns …"

Suddenly, Xavier's voice cracked, and, embarrassed, he looked away from his enraptured audience. Giving himself a moment to recover, Xavier continued. "Dara … Dara _changed_. She changed into some creature, a Gargoyle-like creature, and attacked the boys. She grabbed a hold of one of them and … and bit him, on the throat. So savagely, in fact, that, at first, the boy was pronounced dead at the scene.

"The other boys, as well as Dara's own friends and dozens of onlookers, all fled. Dara must have realized that the police would not have treated her kindly if she let them find her. Dara returned home, packed some things, left a note for her parents, and ran away.

"The note said she was going to look for _'the men who did this'_ to her. Dara told them not to try to find her, and she didn't know when she'd be back. She made it very clear that she would kill those who experimented on her."

A ripple of emotion ran through the group, and the murmurs rose to a fevered pitch. Finally, Wolverine voiced what Xavier knew they had all been wondering:

"Who did it to her?"

His heart sinking, Xavier sighed again and looked down at his hands, folded on his desk. "I cannot be certain, but, if Dara's reaction to Hank was any indication …"

Beast's blue form shuddered once. He did not raise his head. "It was the Dark Beast. He's here … he kidnapped Dara. He did something to her!"

"Hank, easy," Jean whispered, gripping his shoulder.

"Jean, I can't stop thinking about it!" Beast cried, his glassy eyes snapping up to meet hers. "It's--it's like I did it myself! To Dara, it _was_ me!"

"It _wasn't_ you," Xavier said firmly. "It was Dark Beast, and he obviously had some help."

By the look on Beast's face, Xavier's words did little to reassure the furry mutant. Pained for his friend, Xavier nevertheless returned his attention to the other X-Men in his office.

"Until I know for certain," Xavier continued, meeting each mutant with a level gaze, "Dara is to stay here. We will all help her overcome her fear and teach her how to control her powers.

"I will be assigning many of you different duties to attend to Dara. This will take some time, but, from what Jean and I both felt, Dara truly wants help. Right now, she's too frightened to realize it.

"That is all."

Xavier waited patiently as the X-Men began to reluctantly file out. The professor briefly scanned their minds, noting those who planned to stay a bit longer and offer their assistance.

Hesitating for a moment, Nightcrawler bounded forward, beating an agitated looking Wolverine to Xavier's desk.

"_Herr Professor,"_ Nightcrawler blurted, his words pouring out in a rush. "I would like to help Dara--whatever you need me to do, I'll do it …"

Xavier smiled faintly at the elfish mutant. "Actually, Kurt, I had hoped that you would teach Dara some tumbling … gymnastics, and what not."

"Oh, gladly!"

Nodding, Xavier glanced over Nightcrawler's head to Archangel. "Archangel …?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I know you offered to teach Dara how to fly …"

"Yes sir. I'm already thinking about how to start."

Pleased, Xavier turned to Beast and Jean. "The two of you could work on Dara's health … study what her mutation does so we can all understand it."

Jean nodded, and Beast set his jaw firmly.

"If I could reverse her mutation," he said. "I'd do it. Happily."

Frowning inwardly, Xavier turned his attention to Wolverine at last. "Logan, I'd like to speak with you for a moment. Privately."

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Wolverine's craggy face. He stared hard at Xavier, unblinking, not noticing as his friends quickly slipped out of the office.

The office door hardly had time to click shut before Wolverine gave the air a snarl. Clenching his fists, he stalked towards Xavier's desk. "Professor, ya gotta let me work with the girl …"

"Well, Logan …"

"Did ya see how scared she is?"

"Yes."

"I'll protect 'er, I'll teach 'er, do whatever needs t'be done t' help 'er …"

Drawing in a slow, calming breath, Xavier waved for Wolverine to take a seat. "I know, I know … you've been saying that ever since you and the others found her at the facility. And I understand, Logan, and I actually want you to work with her."

Wolverine's gaze fell to the carpeted floor, his lips parting in a snarl. "I gotta let 'er know that she's not alone."

"You will. But it will take some time."

Frowning, Wolverine glanced back up at the professor. "I noticed somethin' when we first found 'er … she knew how to fight. Well enough, but it was like she didn't have enough training. There wasn't any finesse to 'er techniques …"

Xavier arched an eyebrow at the mutant before him. "And …?"

"I think she was s'posed to be in some sort o' program. Somethin' … somebody obviously trained 'er. Some sort o' military program …"

Growling, Wolverine narrowed his eyes. "Yer not hidin' anythin' from me, Chuck?"

Somehow, Xavier expected the question. "No, Logan. To be honest, I was about to make some phone calls to try to uncover some clues."

Sighing again, Xavier ran a hand over his bald head, musing silently for a moment. "This will take some time, Wolverine; she won't come around to us anytime soon. We must move carefully. Otherwise, she may panic again."

Another growl rumbled deep in Wolverine's throat, but he nodded nevertheless. "Jest tell me when …"

"I will."

Setting his jaw, Wolverine stood and turned away, walking out of Xavier's office, his lethal hands clenched angrily at his sides.

Pitying the mutant for a moment, Xavier shook his head, then reached for the telephone by his right elbow. Finding the number in the address book, Xavier punched in the digits, then waited patiently.

After the fourth ring, someone answered. "Bluestone here."

"Detective Bluestone? This is Professor Charles Xavier."

A moment of silence passed between the two.

Finally, the detective answered. "Uh, yeah, I've heard about you, Professor … uh, what's up?"

"Detective, I was hoping you could aide me in some information gathering. I believe you and I have a mutual friend in Manhattan?"

******************************************************************************

TWO WEEKS LATER:

Double-checking her gloves, Rogue shot Storm a wary look before knocking on the bedroom door. "Ah dunno, 'Ro… s'been two weeks, an' Ah hain't seen the gal leave 'er room yet."

"I agree," Storm replied, her eyes narrowing as she watched Rogue hammer on the door. "Dara hasn't grown to trust us in the slightest since she arrived."

"How does she eat? Ah mean, she never sneaks out fer anythin' …"

"I think Jean and Nightcrawler have been bringing her food. I've seen the empty trays outside of the door."

Rogue's face turned hard. "Ain't right. It ain't right, Storm; nobody should be treated like a guinea pig."

"I know."

Sighing, Rogue returned her gaze to the bedroom door. "She ain't answering."

"It's early," Storm suggested, "She could still be asleep."

Uncertain, Rogue glanced back at her. Storm understood what her teammate was thinking.

"We should still check," Storm said, a relief washed over Rogue's face. Bracing herself, Rogue opened the bedroom door and poked her head in. "Dara, honey?"

No one answered.

Shrugging to herself, Rogue opened the door wider, so Storm could see inside. Storm felt herself pale as her eyes fell on Dara, sleeping half-curled on her bed.

Even asleep, Dara's face looked tortured. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, mouth frozen in a grimace.

Dara's fingers dug into the bed's mattress; the bed sheets had been ripped away, and the blanket lay rumpled on the floor. As Storm studied the room, she realized that it was a wreck. It wasn't like a typical teenager's messy room, though; the carpet lay askew. One of the curtains on the fortified window had been torn down, leaving the other hanging at an odd angle on the rod. A desk chair had been flung across the room, leaving a gaping hole in the wall where it had crashed. Papers and clothing and bathroom necessities littered the ground, a lamp laid smashed, and what looked like a trail of blood streaked a wall by the bathroom door.

Rogue blinked. "Whadda mess. Looks like a stampede o' elephants tore through 'ere."

Storm swallowed hard, a foul taste rising in the back of her throat. She looked again at Dara.

"The poor child."

A soft growl wound out of the sleeping girl. Dara winced in her sleep, then rolled over, a hand clapping to her face, as if she didn't want Storm and Rogue to see.

Rogue stiffened. "She's havin' a nightmare."

"Again." Storm took a step forward, one hand extended to shake Dara awake. But Storm hesitated, remembering what the Professor had said to do when Dara was dreaming.

Leave her alone.

Storm was baffled and angry by the order, but nevertheless obeyed it; if someone tried to wake Dara up, she sometimes lashed out, thinking someone was attacking her.

Something witnessed by Cyclops first hand. The man was lucky he still had his nose on his face.

Sighing, Storm turned away, waving for Rogue to follow. "Let us leave."

"Hmmph." Her eyes narrowing, Rogue waited for Storm to slip through before closing the bedroom door. "Ah hate it, watchin' 'er suffer like that."

Storm nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, just to get her bearings. "It is terrible … I wish that she would finally start to trust us so we could help her."

*

Hearing the door click close, Dara stirred, slowly opening her eyes. Hissing at the sunlight lancing through her window, Dara sat up quickly. She glanced about her ruined room, frowning, wondering who had closed her door.

Sighing, she leaned forward, putting her arms on her knees. She glanced back at the window, watching as the kids at the Institute raced across the lawn, playing a Frisbee game.

Dara's heart tightened longingly, but she shook her head; if she got close to anybody, she might hurt them.

Or they'd hurt her.

Growling, Dara kicked off a sheet that had wrapped itself around her ankles. Getting out of bed, she started towards the bathroom, snagging a pair of jeans as she went. Slipping on the pants, Dara turned on the bathroom sink. Tossing aside her nightshirt, Dara bent and washed her face, washing away the tears and sweat.

Drying off, Dara began to shrug on another t-shirt when she heard the soft knock at her door.

"Right on schedule," she murmured, bracing herself. Swallowing hard, she sprinted light across her room, hearing the German's voice waft through the wood.

"_Guten Morgan,_ Dara," he said, his voice oddly kind. "I have your breakfast. I hope you like pancakes?"

Dara's stomach growled, startling her. She bit her lip, debating with herself.

The German's voice went on. "I'll just leave it here …"

Her hands shaking, Dara reached for the doorknob, turning it. Opening the door a crack, she peered through, surprised by how startled the blue, demonic looking mutant seemed to be, staring at her.

The plate of pancakes rattled on his tray as he straightened, baffled. "D-Dara, are you all right …?"

She nodded quickly, wondering why she had opened the door at all.

"O-oh." His pupil-less eyes blinked once, and he glanced down at the fancy breakfast arrangement in his hands. "It's just … I haven't seen you since the night you arrived here …"

"I know." Her voice was hoarse.

"So, uh, I--I was kind of …" Realizing that he was babbling, he shook his fuzzy head. "Uh, I'm Kurt."

Dara nodded again. "Yeah …"

They fell silent, Kurt's eyes falling to the floor, Dara's eyes falling to the tray in his hands. Pancakes, syrup, orange juice, milk, grapefruit, butter, a strawberry …

Mustering up her courage, Dara opened the door a little wider. "I, uh, I'll take …"

"Huh? Oh!" Smiling sheepishly, Kurt held out the tray for her. "Sorry. If you need anything …"

"I know," Dara replied, gratefully accepting the tray. Glancing at the furry mutant once, she turned away, back into her room. "Thanks."

"Of course."

Pushing the bedroom door closed with her back, Dara almost gasped as she felt it pull away from her. Startled, she turned to watch as Kurt drew the door closed.

Staring at the door in confusion, Dara sighed again. Picking her way across her room, she placed the tray on her desk. Up righting the chair she had thrown aside, Dara sat down and began to eat, painfully aware that it wasn't filling her up.

Briefly, she wondered if Mr. Xavier would …

"That's so gross," Dara muttered, half scolding herself. Yeah, sure; the professor would willingly go out and buy her a six-pack of O-positive.

_God!_

Finishing her breakfast, Dara brushed her teeth, wincing at how the bristles scraped across her fangs. Snorting in disgust, she dropped the toothbrush in the sink, then returned to her desk. Sitting down, she gazed through the window, watching as the students and teachers went about their business.

Dara extended her mind a little further, touching the energies outside: since her … since _That Time _… her ability to read emotions had grown stronger. It was almost as though she could _smell_ what people around her felt.

Like a dog.

Like a disgusting, bloodthirsty, monstrous dog.

For the most part, everyone around here seemed pretty much content. A few of the same old quibbles that every person had … no feelings of terror, or anything. A slight fear maybe when some people passed her door or her window, but no one seemed to be scared of her, or hate her.

Dara frowned briefly, then turned to study the disaster that was once her room. When she hadn't been in a sobbing rage, Dara had tried to tear her room apart, looking for a way to escape. After planting her fist solidly in a wall, Dara virtually gave up her escape attempt.

This professor guy had lined the walls with six inches of steel.

_Grrreeeaaattt …_

She sighed heavily, then shook her head. This was it, huh? This … whaddya call it, X-Mansion? It didn't seem like the place where she had been kept during _That Time._

_That Place _didn't have nice beds, or even a toilet, for that matter; her cold, gray cell had only a drain in the center for her use.

She remembered that much.

Suddenly, Dara was very lonely. She hadn't taken a step out of her room since she was brought here. The only people she had seen were the ones who came to visit her, like Kurt, or that other one, Logan.

She gave in, realizing that she did not have a choice. She was trapped here.

But, maybe this place wasn't going to be anything like the lab …

******

Rubbing the towel hard against his hair, Nightcrawler sighed and stepped out of the bathroom, still deep in thought, still worried for Dara.

Nightcrawler had no idea what kinds of hell that girl had gone through … but he found himself hurt by the fact that Dara was too scared to leave her room. Two weeks straight, and she hadn't--well, until today--so much as placed a toe beyond the door.

Nightcrawler wanted to stop thinking about it, but it dogged at him, following him around the room as he found a pair of pants, as he searched for a CD to play, as he sat down at his desk to go through some mail he had received.

He sighed, reaching over with his pointy tail to adjust the volume on his radio. He murmured along with the song, trying to focus on something else. _"You've got yourself stuck in a moment … that you can't get out of …"_

Suddenly, his bedroom door squeaked, like it always did when it was nudged open. Surprised, Nightcrawler turned, wondering who …

Seeing the terrified blue eyes sent Nightcrawler fairly leaping out of skin. He yelped, swinging a hand out to catch his desk before he toppled over.

Frightened, Dara staggered backwards, her breathing fast and her voice ragged. "I'm--I'm sorry! I didn't know--I'm sorry!"

"Dara, easy!"

"I--I heard the music …" Dara was shaking so hard she grasped at the door jamb with both hands to steady herself. "I didn't know this was your room! I'm sorry!"

"There's nothing to be sorry about!" Not knowing whether to be happy that Dara had finally journeyed out of her room or worried that she was freaking out, Nightcrawler stood up, holding up a hand. "I was just surprised to see you."

Dara stared at him, her chest heaving, her fingers tightening on the doorjamb.

For a moment, Nightcrawler thought she might have been put off by his appearance. Suddenly, he remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and he was oddly embarrassed by it.

Grimacing, Nightcrawler gave Dara's pale face an apologetic glance as he reached for his bed, snatching a t-shirt off of the quilt. "Are you okay? Do you need something?"

Dara's eyes flickered back to his face, and she blinked, nervously shaking her head.

"N-no …" she whispered, turning away. "I … I just got sick of my room."

Surprised to hear that, Nightcrawler laughed--and immediately regretted it.

Frightened by the noise, Dara jerked back, like she had been hit. She looked at him fearfully for a moment, then, slowly, tried to smile. "Sorry … haven't heard somebody laugh in a while."

Nightcrawler's heart suddenly went out to her. "Do you need to talk to somebody?"

Dara winced, but she nodded, nevertheless. "Y-yeah … you guys all seem okay. I thought …"

Dara's grip on the doorjamb momentarily tightened. "You busy?"

"Huh? Oh! No!" Shocked though he was, Nightcrawler still managed a kindly smile. He gestured for her to sit on his bed while he bounded across his room. Catching the swivel chair by his desk, Nightcrawler whipped it around, hopping easily into it as it coasted towards Dara.

Dara smiled faintly. "Nice trick."

"Trick??" Oh, _schwoops!_ Inwardly, Nightcrawler smacked himself; he had shown off for Dara without realizing it.

Stupid, fuzzy idiot …

Dara's eyebrows arched slightly. "You all right?"

"What? Oh, yeah." Nightcrawler grinned, then pointed to the door. "Want me to close that?"

"Uh, no. It's okay." Drawing in a deep breath, Dara looked down at his bed, at the quilt his gypsy-mother had sent him. She blinked. "Were you experimented on, Kurt?"

The question came out of nowhere, and Nightcrawler was having a hard time hiding his surprise. "Uh, no …"

Dara shrugged, glancing briefly up at him. "Sorry … It's just--when I first saw you … when you were following my footprints in the snow … I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Sorry? For what? Dara, you don't need to keep saying that."

Her eyes rose to meet his, this time holding his gaze. "Oh, well … I don't want to offend you, Kurt, but … but you don't look … _human_."

Not knowing whether to be insulted or not, Kurt only shrugged. "Okay."

Dara grimaced. "You looked … kinda like me. I--I don't want to say a _monster, _but … y'know … the tail, your eyes, your …" Her voice faltered. _"… teeth …"_

Nightcrawler was hurt by Dara's confusion. He smiled, and slowly reached out with a hand. "No, I'm as human as you are. Only furrier. And blue."

Dara looked away again, shaking her head. "I'm not human."

"Oh, Dara, don't say that." His hand rested lightly on her folded ones, and Dara only flinched slightly at his touch.

She still didn't look at him, and Nightcrawler began to wonder why. With out warning, Dara gently, timidly, took his hand in both of her pale, shaking ones.

"I can feel your emotions, y'know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm not scared of you anymore, 'cuz I know you want to help. I'm not afraid of what you look like, Kurt …

"I'm just ashamed."

The word stabbed at Nightcrawler, and he briefly thought that he wouldn't have felt so wounded if she had just said he was a hideous freak in dire need of an industrial-sized razor blade.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said gently.

Dara's eyes squeezed shut. She was trying her best to hide her tears. "B-but I hurt people … I have to hurt them to live! Why shouldn't I be ashamed?!"

Her body shook once as she attempted to swallow a sob. His own eyes stinging, Nightcrawler slowly stood up. Sitting beside her, he gently pulled his hand free of her grasp, now using his arms to wrap her in a comforting hug.

"You did nothing to deserve this, _leibling_," he murmured, letting her curl against his chest and weep softly. "You did not ask for it. Don't be ashamed. Don't be frightened. I _know _the X-Men can help you with this."

She swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

Tenderly, Nightcrawler wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Positive. And I know of one X-Man in particular who's been impatient to help you."

********************

Not caring if anyone heard his snarl, Wolverine growled as loudly as he damned well pleased, landing another strike squarely on the punching bag.

The bag rattled on its chain and swung back and forth erratically, like a crazed pendulum. Snarling, Wolverine held a hand out, catching it before it could swing back and smack him in the face.

Wiping sweat away from his brow, Wolverine frowned at the punching bag. Hearing the elf's excited chatter about Dara peering out of her room gave Wolverine both hope and frustration; he hoped that Dara was starting to come around.

But he knew that she was still very frightened. And it frustrated him to no end; Wolverine _had_ to talk to her. Face to face, for once. Before, he had made frequent trips to Dara's room, to check on her. He was reluctant to step into the girl's room, so he usually just stood there, trying to project his voice through the wood.

Dara never answered him. Wolverine hadn't really expected her to, but he felt like she couldn't understand what he was saying. He wanted to help her, talk with her.

The only sounds Wolverine would ever hear were a slight sniffle or sob, or a soft snarl and scratching of claws against the wooden floor.

He _did_ sense that she wasn't too petrified of him anymore; uncomfortable, yeah, but the fear smell wasn't as suffocating as it had been when she first was brought to the mansion. Wolverine had often imagined the girl sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes staring, both fearful and hateful, at the door while he spoke, trying to get through to her.

Disgusted with his failure, Wolverine shoved the bag away from him, letting it swing as he walked towards a bench press. A snarling sigh winding out of his throat, Wolverine dropped heavily on the bench, holding his head in his hand as he thought.

He wanted to know what happened to her. He wanted to know who did it to her. He wanted to know why they did it.

But he wouldn't find out. Dara was too afraid to leave her room.

Sometimes, Wolverine had gotten angry at her refusal to step outside; they weren't going to hurt her. They left her door unlocked most of the day and night. They fed her. They didn't hurt her. They washed her clothes, brought her clean bed sheets, toothpaste, fresh towels, magazines, videos, pencils and paper, a radio, aspirin, quilts, shampoo … whatever she needed.

But she wouldn't come out.

Shortly after thinking this, Wolverine would usually growl at himself and shake his head; who was he to talk? He acted pretty much the same way when Heather and James found him, feral and vicious, living in the Canadian forests. It took them a long time to earn his trust.

The gym doors opened behind him, his ears catching the barely audible squeak. A startlingly familiar scent assaulted his nostrils, and Wolverine gasped, spinning around to face Dara as she uneasily slipped into the gymnasium.

Dara saw him there, and her eyes went wide, as though she had seen him for the first time. She bit her lip, then turned, starting back to the doors.

"K-Kurt …" she stammered, apparently not aware that Wolverine could hear her. "I don't think I can …"

"Yes you can," the elf's voice replied, and a blue, three-fingered hand snuck through the double doors, gently waving Dara back. "Logan won't bite. I'll be right here."

For a moment, Dara stared at Kurt like she couldn't believe what she had just heard. Swallowing hard, she fleetingly glanced back at Wolverine. The fear scent became stronger, and Wolverine suddenly felt ashamed for frightening the girl.

Wincing, the girl gripped at her right arm, trying to hide the serial numbers on her skin. She backed away, circling slowly around the far side of the gym, her eyes shifting nervously from Wolverine to the mats on the floor.

"Th-they said that I …" Dara hesitated, waiting until she had put several pieces of exercise equipment between her and Wolverine. "… That I should talk to you. About … what happened."

She peered at Wolverine through the mess of cables and weights on one machine. Her eyes seemed to harden a bit. "I really don't want to say too much. I don't remember everything, exactly, but it's been coming back to me in pieces."

"Oh?" Wolverine was barely aware that he spoke, and he was surprised at how nonchalant his voice sounded.

Dara nodded, stepping towards the punching bag. Catching its sides, she slowed its swings, glancing askance to him before speaking again. "I thought about it a lot … and, well, after you said that--that it happened to you too …"

A look of pain crossed her face, and she dropped her eyes. "I didn't really believe you when you said it happened to you too."

Wolverine nodded, miraculously calm despite the emotions roaring inside of him. "S'okay."

"Mm." Dara dug her fingernails into the vinyl covering in the punching bag as she thought. "I listened to you talk when you came by my room. You didn't say what happened to you, but I could feel it."

She glanced at him briefly before moving away. "I sense emotions."

"Yeah?" He knew. He pretended that he didn't.

"Yeah … um, I read once that animals can sense emotions in each other. And in people. Y'know, like when they're angry, and they're hiding it, or something." Slipping around a vaulting horse, Dara raised her cold eyes to his. "Can you sense it? The feelings?"

Wolverine blinked. "Well … not like that, 'zactly. I can smell when somebody gets scared, or suttin' …"

Frowning, Dara looked away again, drumming her fingers on the horse. Her face tightened. "Does that make me an animal?"

"A--? _What?" _Horrified by the question, Wolverine stood up, wanting to reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, or maybe even give her a hug.

Dara's eyes widened slightly, and she took two quick steps back. Her hands gnarled into fists at her sides.

Seeing her stance, Wolverine immediately halted in his tracks. Wincing internally for the girl, he shook his head. "You're no animal."

Something in his voice made Dara look at him in amazement, made all the tension in her body evaporate.

Dara stared at him, almost incredulously. Slowly, she straightened.

"Can you help me?"

Her voice was so full of pleading, of pain. All of a sudden, Wolverine saw her agony, how lonely she was.

How much they were alike.

Smiling gently at her, Wolverine gestured back to the bench press.

"Let's talk about what happened to me," he said softly.

******************************************************************************

NOV. 29, 2001

10:18 PM:

"Jump!"

Not believing that Archangel had actually bellowed that up at her, Dara dug her claws a little deeper into the ancient roof of the X-Mansion. Her eyes wide with fear, she uneasily peered over the eve of the roof, down to where Wolverine and Archangel stood, waiting.

"Are you out of your friggin' gourd?!" Dara cried, tearing her gaze away from them so she could scan the shadowy expanse of the Institute's compound. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Visibly exasperated, Archangel cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed back up to her. "Dara, c'mon! You can do it!"

"I'm too scared!"

"You know how to fly! Open those wings!"

"Forget it! This isn't like jumping off a garage or a gazebo!" Swallowing hard, Dara looked back down at the pair, unnerved by how tiny they looked. "Warren, I can't do it!"

Below her, Archangel sighed, dropping his hands and shaking his head. "She was doing okay until I told her to land on the roof. Now she won't budge!"

Smirking, Wolverine glanced back up the roof, watching as the unusually warm breeze whipped Dara's hair back, tugging at her wings. "She forgets how strong she is, I think."

"Nothing _bad's_ going to happen to her," Archangel said, narrowing his eyes as Dara made a tentative step towards on the mansion's skylights. "She _knows_ how to fly and land and take off … did you see her last night? How high she went in the air?"

For a moment, Wolverine smiled at the memory--then grimaced as he remembered seeing the streak of bluish green wings flash by his window as he stepped out of the shower. "She's doin' well."

"Damn straight." Shrugging in defeat, Archangel reached for the two-way radio on his belt, thumbing it on. "Kurt? You're needed."

"Be there in a jiffy," the elf cheerily replied, and a loud, audible "bamf!" shuddered through the radio.

Archangel narrowed his eyes as he flipped the radio off. "How come he's always so eager to help with Dara?"

Seeing how oblivious Angel Eyes was, Wolverine swallowed a roar of laughter, fighting to keep his face straight; it seemed so obvious to him.

The misfit had a crush on Dara.

Nightcrawler had not readily admitted to even a slight infatuation with the pretty brunette, but Wolverine wasn't dumb. He had noticed how carefully the elf had acted around Dara, how he always managed to break into a grin when she passed by, how he had gotten a little braver the last few days and started to sit next to her at the dinner table.

Dara had slowly grown accustomed to the Institute. The more she began to leave her room, the more she started to talk and smile and laugh again, the more Nightcrawler had grown to love her.

Wolverine allowed one quick, deft smile to cross his lips before returning his attention to the roof.

This should be interesting to see.

*

Up on the roof, an explosion of light and a head-ringing "BAMF!" momentarily stunned Dara. She gasped and quickly hopped aside, giving Nightcrawler enough room to drop to the roof.

"_Guten Nacht__,_ Dara!" Nightcrawler said, grinning first at her startled expression, then at the smile that split through it.

"Evenin', _mein Herr,__"_ Dara countered, shifting her body so that she was sitting comfortably next to him.

Nightcrawler's eyes seemed to widen at her movement, but he quickly shook himself, returning the smile to his face. "So, what's up?"

"Me, I guess." Grimacing, Dara folded her dragon-like wings over her shoulders. "Archangel wants me to jump off and glide, but I'm too nervous."

"Why? It shouldn't be so difficult for you."

"Well, no, but …" Shrugging, she waved a taloned hand down to the Mansion's garage. "Two days ago I was jumping off of that thing, no problem. But all of a sudden, I'm up about three stories from the ground … and I don't wanna go no where!"

Nightcrawler cocked his head at her. "Well, you can't stay up here all night."

"Right." Glad that _someone_ was willing to give her a break, Dara sat up, momentarily releasing her death-grip on the roof tiles.

"_Bon voyage!__"_

Dara's head snapped up, her eyes flying open in a panic as a grinning Nightcrawler sprang for her, both three-fingered hands outstretched for her body.

"Aggh! Nightcrawler, DON'T--!" Dara shrieked, turning to bound away, but not able to move fast enough. A wall of fur and muscle slammed into her, and suddenly, Dara was sliding rapidly towards the eve of the roof, her claws scrabbling for a handhold.

The tiles disappeared from under her hands and feet, and Dara plummeted like a rock.

Archangel gave a squawk. "OPEN YOUR WINGS!!"

Dara was _trying to_, but it felt like everything was tangled up. A terrified cry caught in her throat as she twisted around, shaking loose her wings.

Below her, both Archangel and Wolverine yelped, diving for cover as her wings finally unfurled, catching a gust of wind.

Dara looked down in horror as she literally skimmed the dried grass of the front lawn. Gasping, she tilted her body upwards, angling her wings so she could swoop upwards. Gaining a few feet, Dara gave an experimental flap.

Her body shot upward, and suddenly, Dara smiled. Flapping a few more times, Dara gained altitude, suddenly very relieved that her new wings were built to fly _and_ glide.

Realizing that she was headed away from the mansion, Dara drew in a steadying breath, then back-flipped, gracefully turning her body so she swooped back to the Institute.

Archangel and Wolverine shouted something to her as she passed overhead. She was moving too fast to understand what they were saying, but she could tell they were words of encouragement. Grinning, she swooped to the right, rising higher into the sky.

She loved to fly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dara saw Nightcrawler, still perched on the roof, shouting happily and waving to her. Remembering what he did, Dara snarled without realizing it. He _betrayed_ her!

Baring her fangs, Dara increased her speed, dipping low, heading straight towards the roof.

As she approached, she saw Nightcrawler's mischievous grin falter a little. He probably thought that she was going to plow straight into the roof. She smirked.

As the distance closed between them, Nightcrawler eyes flew open as he realized that she wasn't aiming for the roof. Yelping, he scrambled backwards, but couldn't 'port away in time.

"Gotchya!" Dara roared, crashing into the elf and wrapping her arms around his chest. Nightcrawler squawked something in German as she pulled him off of the roof, carrying him heavenward.

"DARA!! For God's sake, let me go!" Nightcrawler cried, twisting in her grip. But when he saw how high she had flown, he screeched and flung his arms around her neck. "Don't let me go! DON'T LET ME GO!!"

"What's the matter, fuzzy?" Dara snarled, vaguely aware of how cold her voice sounded. "'Fraid of heights?"

"Gah!"

"You scared the hell out of me, Kurt! Why'd you do that?!"

"I'm sorry, Dara!"

"Don't you _ever_ do something like that to me again!" Dara roared, twisting her body so she and Nightcrawler shot back down to earth. "EVER!!"

"NeverevereverevereverEVER!!!" Nightcrawler all but screamed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Satisfied, Dara pulled out of her drop, swooping upwards and over the Mansion's roofs. "All right then."

Opening her wings a bit wider, Dara slowed her descent, dropping easily back to the roof.

"BAMF!!!"

The noise ringing in her pointed ears, Dara heard herself cry out in fright, ducking her head away from the stinging purple smoke. She felt Nightcrawler's arms tighten around her body as they rushed through the Otherspace.

With a thunderous roar, Nightcrawler teleported back into reality, yelping as they crashed hard into his bed.

Gasping, Dara sat up, shaking her hair out of her face and hearing her brain rattle in her skull. She winced, then quickly wiped away the soot from her eyes. "What--?!"

"Oopsy."

Blinking rapidly, Dara looked about her in amazement, then down to Nightcrawler, who was pinned underneath her.

He smiled sheepishly and gave her a one-shouldered shrug. "Uh … not what I had planned, but hey … any landing you can walk away from …?"

Realizing that he had taken advantage of her _again,_ Dara snarled viciously, feeling her eyes turn red. Baring her fangs, she took a swat at Nightcrawler, who squawked and struggled to block it.

With a roar, Dara caught both of Nightcrawler's wrists and slammed them to a mattress. She drove her face close to his, feeling his quick, hot breath feathering her face. "God damn it, Nightcrawler!"

"D-Dara, I didn't mean--"

"Kurt, why did you …?" Her glowing eyes sparkled with threatening tears. Dara sniffed, slowly releasing her clutch on Nightcrawler's hands. "Kurt, I was _scared."_

Nightcrawler's pupil-less eyes widened. He swallowed hard. "D-Dara, I'm so sorry, I--I was just …"

He fell silent.

A wave of regret reverberated from Nightcrawler, swamping Dara's mind. He was honestly sorry.

But he tricked her.

Swallowing a sob, Dara sat up, the glow from her eyes fading, but the tears lingering behind. She looked away from Nightcrawler as he sat up, not wanting him to see her so upset.

His soft fingers gently touched her cheek, gingerly turning her face back towards him. Dara kept her eyes averted as Kurt carefully wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

Feeling his concern for her, Dara didn't look away as Kurt lowered his head to gaze at her.

"Forgive me, Dara," he whispered, wiping away another tear with his thumb. "I forget that you are still fragile. I know you don't like to be taken advantage of and tricked, but, sometimes, I don't stop to think about it." He tried to smile. "I was trying to help you, actually."

Dara sighed sadly, knowing that he _was_ only trying to help. Kurt, along with just about every other mutant in this building, was trying to help her get over her fears.

But Dara hated being used. That's what _They_ did when they experimented on her.

She sniffed. "I know."

Kurt's smile faltered slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm--I'm better now." Dara raised her eyes to his, wondering how they could be so empty and yet so caring.

Suddenly, a jolt surged through her, and, for the first time, Dara realized where she was.

"Oh!" she gasped, scrambling backwards off of Nightcrawler, startling him.

"Dara?"

"Sorry, Kurt! I uh, just remembered--" Now it was _her_ turn to be sheepish. She gestured uneasily towards him. "--I didn't think I should have been sit--er, y'know … you're a_ priest!_ I didn't think it was right!"

Realizing what she was saying, Nightcrawler's eyes flew open in horror. "Oh!"

Dara felt her cheeks turn red hot. Monstrously embarrassed, she turned and bolted for the door. "Sorry, Kurt!"

As she skidded out into the hallway, she heard Nightcrawler shouting nervously after her. "It's not that bad! I'm just a priest in training! DARA!!"

Dara didn't stop running until she reached the main stairway of the mansion. Catching the railing with both hands, Dara slid to a halt, panting and fighting back giggles. THAT was just a teeny-weeny bit awkward.

Hoping no one could hear her laugh, she trotted down the stairway half way, then turned and vaulted the railing, landing neatly on the carpet.

Caping her wings, she grinned to herself and started for the kitchen, knowing that Wolverine would be waiting for her there. Thinking of Wolverine made her smile grow wider, but she quickly hid that; Dara had done a good job of hiding her love for Wolverine so far. She didn't think anyone knew about it--or suspected.

As she approached the kitchen, she ordered herself to calm down. She could sense Wolverine inside, with Archangel, and …

Dara froze in the doorway, feeling her heart stop dead in her chest.

Seeing her, McCoy gasped and sat up straighter in his chair, bumping the breakfast table and rattling his mug of tea. Across from him, Wolverine raised his head, his face passive but his eyes alarmed.

He knew that Dara was still afraid of McCoy.

Archangel stood nearby, a bottle of beer in his hand. He grimaced, then glanced at Wolverine, as if asking what to do.

Suddenly, the microwave timer dinged, and the four mutants all gasped in fright, leaping at the sound.

Dara's heart came back to life, and hammered thunderously in her chest. She swallowed hard, risking a glance away from McCoy to the microwave, where a sickeningly sweet, metallic scent wafted towards her.

'_Blood,'_ she realized, and her stomach gave a hungry lurch. With all the excitement going on, Dara had forgotten that it was time for her to …

Unable to keep herself from shaking, Dara took a tentative step into the kitchen. "Uh … I, um …"

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, McCoy slowly rose from his chair. "Err, I believe I'll retire for the night," he said, smiling weakly at Dara. "Nietzsche awaits."

Eager for him to leave, Dara nodded quickly. "Yeah … uh, I just need the …"

McCoy gazed at her for a moment, and Dara inwardly winced; she knew, she knew, she KNEW that this McCoy wasn't the one who tortured her during _That Time_. She had been told by everyone, had seen the evidence the Professor had produced, even sensed the innocence in McCoy.

But all that wasn't enough to keep her from jumping in terror at the ape-like form, or waking up screaming from nightmares, in which a McCoy stalked her, alongside _The Other Men._

This McCoy--Beast--was good. She knew that.

But she still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't trust him.

Hurt, McCoy gathered his mug. "I, uh, made some more sun block for you, Dara … it's right here, in the white bottle."

"Th-thanks." Uneasily, Dara moved away from the door, wanting to stay as far from McCoy as possible.

And she felt ashamed because of it.

Wanting to distract herself, Dara hurried to the microwave, opening the door and reaching for the plastic container inside. "Thanks, guys."

"Uhh, no problem." Archangel cocked an eyebrow at the container and winced. "I think I'll just take off for now."

Dara smiled despite her shame. It grossed Angel out when she … um, _fed_.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Archangel said, shuddering as Dara peeled the lid off of the bowl. "Uh … no offense, Dara but, _ugh_."

"I know."

Shuddering again, Archangel turned away. "'Night, guys."

"'Night, Warren." Sighing, Dara turned to the table, the container of blood cradled in her hands. She frowned at it. Cow's blood. Yuck.

"Ya okay, darlin'?"

Dara glanced up at him, noticing how Wolverine's brow furrowed as he watched her, concerned. "Uh, yeah." She pointed to the bowl with one claw. "It's just … you know how it bugs me."

Wolverine sighed, somehow understanding. "Yeah, I know." He gestured to the chair beside him. "Siddown."

Dara balked at the order, wondering if sitting next to him was really such a good idea. Brushing it off, she slid into the chair next to him, careful not to touch him.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "How's the bite?"

Wolverine smirked. "Gone, jest like I told ya."

Dara nodded, but she wasn't satisfied with the answer. "I didn't mean to bite you …"

"It was just a nip on th' hand, darlin'," Wolverine replied, looking at her almost incredulously. To prove that it meant nothing to him, he held his hand up, so she could see where the bite mark should have been. "It's not like ya tried to rip me t' shreds."

Still, Dara grimaced.

"Ya only reacted, an' I'm not pissed about it," Wolverine went on, dropping his hand back to the table. "I _was_ tryin' t' teach ya defense, after all."

"Well, yeah, you're right." Drawing in a deep breath, Dara gazed down to the pool of blood in the container. "I was kinda afraid, at first. Y'know, the whole vampire thing." She shrugged. "I, um, tasted your blood. It was just a little, but … but it made me hungry."

Dara looked back at him, waiting for some look of revulsion to cross his face.

It didn't. "I can understand that," Wolverine said, leaning back in his seat. "But I wasn't scared, Dara."

"Yeah." Dara's eyes fell back to the blood. For a second, she wanted to fling it against a wall. A growl rose in her throat.

"If I hadn't gotten caught, I wouldn't have to worry about this whole thing!" Dara snarled, slowly standing up. "I hate making like Dracula every night! I _hate_ blood!"

She glanced at Wolverine, who hadn't moved since she spoke. She bared her fangs involuntarily. "You know what I hate especially?"

Wolverine stared at her, not speaking.

With another growl, she swept past him, out to the patio. "I hate the fact that I _crave_ the damned stuff!"

Her tail snapping out behind her, Dara stormed across the patio, vaulting up onto the low stone wall that partially enclosed it. Perching there, Dara growled in disgust, then took a gulp from the bowl.

And another.

There was little left by the time Wolverine stuck his head out the kitchen doors, saying that Xavier wanted to see him. Dara didn't acknowledge him, and forced herself to ignore his concern.

Waiting until he was out of the kitchen, Dara gave the warm air a piercing roar and lobbed the bloodstained Tupperware container deep into the woods.

Sickened and hungry, she sat there, hating herself.

************************************

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"

Xavier smiled as Wolverine froze in the doorway, staring in amazement at the grinning, purple creature that stood beside the professor's desk.

Wolverine blinked. "Barney?"

Her eyes narrowing, Awen flung a wadded up piece of paper at the mutant's head, laughing as Wolverine batted it aside. "Get in here, barbarian; we need to talk."

Xavier waited patiently as Wolverine clasped wrists with the Gargoyle, struggling not to grin as she good-naturedly antagonized him over the state of his hair.

"Ya try tamin' this thing," Wolverine grumbled, attempting to flatten his wild mane. "Hank doesn't let me use his hair gel anymore … I just use the damned thing up."

Awen laughed, her white fangs flashing in the lamplight. "A friend of mine might say you should just take a Weedwhacker to it."

"Enough wit th' hair, okay?"

Xavier chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "All right, you two; we're just waiting for the others before we talk."

They didn't have long to wait. Kurt soon arrived with an ear-ringing "BAMF!!!" As he chattered away with Awen, the door to Xavier's office swung open, and the X-Men poured in, all surprised and delighted to see their Gargoyle friend.

"I'm pleased to see that you responded so promptly to my message," Xavier said with a small grin. "Perhaps if I had mentioned Awen was here, you would have arrived even sooner."

"Auc, don't make my arrival sound like the Second Coming," Awen said. Despite her smile, her voice became serious. "Besides, this isn't a social call."

Beast looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Finally, her smile disappeared. Sighing heavily, Awen returned to Xavier's desk, glancing at the professor. "Will you explain, or should I?"

"You should," Xavier answered, feeling his own smile fade. "You saw everything."

Somehow, his X-Men noticed the pain in his voice, and immediately fell silent.

Cyclops spoke first. "Saw _what_?"

One of Awen's brow ridges rose, and she looked at Cyclops uncertainly. "Well …"Seeing that there was no other way to start, Awen sighed, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against Xavier's desk. "Seven months ago, a friend of mine was helping his sister investigate a case where a teen aged girl was returned after being missing for almost a year.

"Naturally, that girl was Dara. My friend, Matt, was asked by his sister to help her investigate Dara's return and the injuries she had. Matt recognized some of the obvious experimentation as being the handiwork of a fugitive genetist named Anton Sevarius."

Wolverine sat bolt upright in his chair. "That's the guy Dara said experimented on her!"

Awen nodded, her face hardening grimly. "One of the guys, it turns out.

"Matt asked me to help because …" She paused, musing her words. "Because I had a _run-in_ with the little bastard a while earlier. He only wanted me to find clues that would point to Sevarius as being the culprit, but I found notes and map coordinates locating the Savage Land."

The words burned in Xavier's ears and he bowed his head, listening to the amazed gasps from the mutants around him.

"But what does dat mean?" Gambit asked, narrowing his eyes at the tall Gargress. "De _batard_ is makin' mutants?"

A faint red glow rose in Awen's eyes. "Not him," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. "Another man. A man whom I can only describe as being _sinister_."

For several long seconds no one moved, nor hardly took a breath.

Finally, Cyclops roared, "I KNEW IT!!!" and the room exploded, every mutant bellowing at Awen and Xavier, demanding to know where Mr. Sinister was, what had he done to Dara, was the Dark Beast involved, how had Sevarius gotten roped into this, how did Awen find out, did they use Magneto's old fortress, what?

Awen had to roar to make herself be heard. "Quiet down! Quiet! I'll explain everything!"

The X-Men quieted after a moment, but they were hardly still. Xavier didn't have to stretch his telepathy far in order to get a read on the murderous emotions felt by every mutant there.

Snarling softly, Awen planted her hands on either hip, sweeping the room with an understandably angry gaze. "Sevarius had some experience in cloning Gargoyles and humans. He even found a way to splice human and Gargoyle DNA together, to make a hybrid.

"I don't know when, but this thing--whatever you call him, Mr. Sinister--must have approached Sevarius at one point and said something. Matt and I assume that it might have been to get him off the Most Wanted lists, make him a rich man, or something. Whatever the case, Sevarius jumped at the chance, and he made several dozen trips to the Savage Land in about two years.

"Matt and I and a friend of his managed to get to the Savage Land back in May, a few nights after Dara was found. I got inside the fortress first, and I saw that Sinister had filled the place with hi-tech labs that Saddam would _kill_ to get his hands on.

"There were several hundred scientists there, including Sevarius and …" Remembering, Awen paused, and looked at Beast sympathetically. "… and a mutant scientist that Sevarius referred to as 'McCoy'."

Beast's shoulders slumped forward. He slowly shook his head, horrified, but not denying the truth. "I knew it …"

Awen winced. "I didn't realize at the time … well, uh, the Professor explained it to me.

"But, when I found them, Sevarius and McCoy were arguing over tests results, and a mutant girl that they had spliced both Gargoyle DNA and vampire enzymes into her genetic code. They never said her name, but … they were angry that she didn't come out as expected." The ends of Awen's hair bristled in barely contained rage. _"Apparently._

"I couldn't hear everything, but another scientist went up to them and said that the security alarms had been tripped. They didn't know what else to do, so they decided to go to this Sinister guy. I followed them, but I really didn't learn anything else out … except that their experimentation managed to tear Sevarius's right arm off."

Rogue straightened. "Ew."

Archangel's wing feathers ruffled uneasily. He shot a nervous look to Wolverine, who could just barely keep calm in light of these new discoveries.

"Did Dara do that?" Archangel asked, trying his best not to sound frightened.

Awen bowed her head sadly.

Xavier sighed heavily, his emotions mixed. "Yes," he said, silently relieved that his voice didn't waver. "A short time before Dara was returned, she turned on her captors and attacked the scientists."

Awen glanced at him, her eyes glassy. "I don't know if she remembers, though."

Xavier hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not sure. Dara won't let me search her mind, but she hasn't let on that something this … this …"

This what? Violent? Dangerous? What could he say that wouldn't make the X-Men uneasy around Dara?

Awen came to the rescue. "This _awful_ had happened to her."

She glanced at Xavier again, and he gave her a small smile, grateful for her assistance.

Nodding once, Awen returned her attention to her mutant friends. "I encountered Sinister in the fortress, but, as I'm sure you can imagine, he wasn't willing to share any information.

"Matt and Mulder had found several hundred more labs, and a huge cell block with teen age mutants that had been abducted and experimented on. A girl there explained that there were hundreds of kids there in that block alone. All of them had been kidnapped and used. The girl herself said she was a failure, and she was supposed to be killed within the day.

"Mulder and Matt freed the prisoners, and we managed to get them home. We found out later that we had only freed about one hundred and eighty kids; we left about five hundred more in the fortress."

An unrestrained snarl escaped Awen, and her eyes glowed a vicious red. Hissing, she held a hand up to silence the growing, angry voices around her. "I went back there as soon as I found out, but Sinister and the others were gone; they destroyed the fortress, took their test subjects and equipment, and just disappeared."

The clawed hand Awen rested on Xavier's desk curled into a fist, and the professor was alarmed to see blood seep out from between her fingers.

"I only found bodies and trash there," she said bitterly, hanging somewhere between an insane rage and a sobbing fit. "They left the teens who died there. I gathered about fifty of them and brought them back. Matt said that they couldn't identify most of the children … others might have been child slaves and runaways.

"I don't know where they went, and I couldn't find out anything more about the DNA they used on Dara. I had my friends ask some of the kids who were willing to talk, and they admitted that Sinister had a special program designed for teenagers with powerful mutant powers. They said that a girl fitting Dara's description was the latest test subject, but they didn't know what was done to her."

Drawing in a ragged breath, Awen turned away from the group before her, circling around Xavier's seat.

"Furthermore," she continued, "I did find something interesting from those kids; they said that one of the test subjects was taken by mutants that weren't part of Sinister's group. The kids claim that this teenager was rescued …"

"By a mutant who could apparently control metal," Xavier finished. He and Awen shared a suspicious look. "The children said he was like 'a human _magnet'."_

"Magneto!" Storm cried.

Kurt sat bolt upright, ramrod straight. "Magneto _saved_ Dara?!"

"That's insane!" Iceman sputtered as Xavier waved for silence.

"It _does_ sound improbable!" Xavier shouted over the din, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "But I have no reason to doubt that Magneto was the one who freed Dara. How he knew about her, and where she was, I don't know at the moment.

"But I _do_ know that Magneto and Sinister have never been on friendly terms with each other. I wouldn't be surprised if Magneto attacked the fortress--"

"But why not save the other kids there?" Wolverine snapped, viciously cutting Xavier off. "And if he hates Sinister so much, why didn't Metalhead wreck the laboratories when he had the chance?"

"And why was Dara found on the side of the road?" Jean asked. A swirl of anger and confusion rippled out from her and into Xavier. "Magneto wouldn't do something like that … and Dara was so badly hurt! If Magneto _did_ save Dara, why didn't he just bring her someplace for treatment? Like Genosha? Why _dump her_?"

Xavier felt like his patience was about to snap. "I _don't know_, Jean. I'll admit, none of this makes much sense!"

Awen growled softly. "Dara didn't escape on her own, that's for sure. And she was supposed to have been killed in the labs … if what we heard was true. Dara was marked a failure."

The tall Gargoyle shook her head, frustrated. "Sinister was trying to destroy all evidence of genetic tampering, so it wouldn't be bloody likely that he'd let his test subjects just waltz right out the door. Dara's experimentations were _obvious_, so I really doubt that Sinister would have let her be returned."

Drawing in a steadying breath, Awen folded her wings around her more tightly, composing herself. "I've brought some papers that might be useful, but other than that, I don't have anything else to say."

Rogue straightened uneasily in her seat. "Are ya gonna talk to Dara?"

Awen's shoulders sagged. "I … I don't think that would be a wise idea," she said softly, glancing at Rogue briefly. The Gargoyle looked sorrowful. "I don't think she's ready to meet me, or any other Gargoyle. I--I might scare her … and I'd rather not risk that."

Xavier didn't need to probe their minds to know that the X-Men understood. Still, they were troubled, and Xavier knew he should ease their worries.

"Well," he said brightly, forcing a false smile to his lips. "We'll take care of Dara here. I'll keep in touch with Awen, to let her know how Dara is doing.

"Still, we should go about our business as usual. No one should utter a word of this to Dara. I believe that she will come forward to speak when she feels ready. At that time, we will all be there for her."

The mutants around him all looked to one another, setting their jaws and nodding their grim agreement. Secretly relieved, Xavier turned to the Gargoyle beside him. "I shall update you regularly Ath---Awen?"

Startled, Xavier spun his hover chair around, his eyes widening at the open window behind him.

She left!

Irritated, Xavier frowned. "I do so _hate it_ when she does that."

******************************************************************************

THE FOLLOWING DAY:

"Look out!" A can of Coke clutched in one hand, a human Dara vaulted the back of the sofa and landed comfortably beside Wolverine. Noting his playfully disapproving glare, Dara pretended to be taken aback. "What?? I'm on a caffeine high, gimme a break."

Wolverine chuckled, giving her arm a slight swat as he returned to the news broadcast.

Cyclops, however, was not being at all playful when he frowned at Dara. "Dara, what have I said about jumping all over the furniture?"

"That she can do it as often as she damn well pleases," Wolverine replied casually, pausing to exhale his cigar.

Grinning, Dara shot a devilish look back at Cyclops. "And that if I bust anything, Professor X will cheerily set out and buy an entire new set--something preferably with stronger springs!"

Judging by his look, Cyclops was not amused, and Dara was extraordinarily happy that he was wearing his quartz sunglasses. She wasn't in the mood to get roasted today.

"I'm kidding, Cyke," she said gently.

An odd flicker of unease spilled out of Cyclops, but he only sighed and gave her a lopsided smile. "I know, I know …"

Surprised by his shift in emotions, Dara stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should ask what was bothering him. After a moment, she decided against it; Cyclops wouldn't say anything anyways.

The trio sat there, watching the news as students and teachers began to head off for dinner. A few paused by the couches, watching as the weather forecaster pointed out an incoming storm front.

Cyclops shook his head. "Thunderstorms in the middle of November?"

Dara shrugged. "Get Ms. Munroe out there. Tell her to send it some place else."

Before Cyclops could answer that, Rogue swung into the living room, a pile of envelopes and odd packages cradled in her arms.

"Guess what's here, y'all!" she said, unceremoniously dumping the clutter onto the dining room table. "Come an' get it!"

Dara pretended not to notice as Cyclops sprang to his feet to retrieve his mail. Wolverine hardly gave Cyclops a second glance, but he blinked when he saw that Dara was still sitting beside him.

"Not expectin' anything, kiddo?"

Biting back a snarl, Dara shook her head quickly. "No … my family's been kind of weird since they found out I was here. It's like they're afraid to send anything, or call, or whatever."

Frowning, Dara glanced up at her mentor, her friend. "Besides … I've got family here too. It's not like I'll be totally alone. I can miss a few cards, I think."

Sympathetic, Wolverine slipped a quick arm around her shoulders, giving her a tender hug. "I know how ya feel, darlin'."

Dara almost froze under the embrace. He didn't … did he just …?

She forced a smile on her face. "Well," she croaked. "It's nice to know that I've got a kindred soul nearby."

Wolverine grinned at her, but wouldn't reply to that. Instead, he withdrew his arm and looked back to the TV, falling silent.

Hiding her wince, Dara reached towards the soda she left on the coffee table, not listening as Rogue mused over a music tape she had gotten in the mail.

*

Wondering, Rogue held the unmarked cassette up. "Hey, y'all! Anybody know what this is?"

"If it's a Beatles tape, I've got first dibs on it," Nightcrawler said, continuing to root through the slush pile.

Psylocke briefly glanced up from her stack of bills and magazines. "Why don't you pop it in th' tape deck? Let's have a hear."

Not seeing anything wrong with that, Rogue crossed the dining room back to the living room, where the stereo sat beside the television. Dara glanced up as Rogue keyed for the tape player. "What's that, Rogue?"

"Ah dunno, sugah," Rogue replied with a shrug, fitting into the deck. "It didn' have a return address, so Ah dunno who it came from …"

Pushing the tape deck back into the stereo, Rogue pressed "play".

Five seconds passed before a calm, deep voice boomed out of the surrounding speakers. It spoke only one word.

"Beta."

Then all hell broke loose.

Her eyes flaring red, Dara leapt to her feet, knocking over the coffee table, letting it crash thunderously into the television set.

Shocked, Wolverine jumped up. "Dara, what the hell--!"

Dara threw her head back and screamed, the sound twisting into a roar as her body morphed, breaking out of her clothing. Her wings tore straight through her shirt, leaving nothing but tatters. Her boots ripped apart as her arched feet returned, her tail and leg muscles splitting the seams on her pants.

Her fangs glaringly white, Dara spun around, a beastly shriek bursting from her throat as she launched herself for Rogue, her taloned hands outstretched for Rogue's startled eyes.

"My God!" Rogue cried, trying to dive aside as the monster pounced on her. "Dara, don't--!"

Dara slammed into Rogue full force, knocking the mutant flat on her stomach, crushing the air out of her lungs. Rogue yelped painfully, struggling to turn around to face Dara as the younger mutant hissed viciously, raising a taloned hand to strike.

"DARA, STOP!!!"

Dara shrieked as Wolverine caught her in a flying tackle, knocking her right off of Rogue's back and sending them both sliding across the polished wooden floor.

Writhing in Wolverine's grip, Dara turned her empty, glowing eyes on him, her face filled with a murderous rage that made Wolverine hesitate, not sure if he had really seen it.

With a beastly growl, Dara unfurled her wings, pushing Wolverine off of her just enough so she could lift a powerful leg and kick him full in the chest, throwing him back against the stereo, smashing it completely.

Cyclops gave a wordless shout of amazement as Dara leapt to her feet, springing across the living room and into the dining room, bellowing. She dove for the dining table, swinging her hand out and slamming it into Cyclops' face, flinging him onto his back and knocking his visor off his face.

With another monstrous roar, Dara slammed onto the table, her claws splintering the wood as she landed. She snarled as Nightcrawler charged her, his face determined but his eyes filled with fear.

Risking a glance away from him, Dara glowered at Psylocke as she tried to focus her power on the dining room table.

Feeling the table tremble beneath her, Dara gave the air a roar and dove aside, side flipping away as the table reared up, smashing into Nightcrawler.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Psylocke cried, not noticing Dara leaping up onto a wall nearby.

As Nightcrawler swore and squirmed out from underneath the table, both Jean Grey and Archangel came tearing into the dining room, close to panicked.

Archangel's eyes shot open as Dara clawed her way along the wall, positioning herself behind Psylocke as the she tried to help Nightcrawler free himself.

"Betsey, look out!" Archangel shouted, rushing forward as Dara lunged, fangs bared and claws poised.

Gasping, Psylocke lashed a hand out almost blindly, her TK screaming through the air. Dara gave a howling scream as Psylocke mentally slapped her aside, flinging her to the floor.

Hardly stunned, Dara pushed herself to her feet before she even stopped sliding over the floor. Snarling and scowling, Dara shook herself off, glaring hatefully at Archangel as he approached.

Startled, Archangel skidded to a halt, unconsciously taking a hasty step back as Dara's wings flew open, arching over her body.

Dara snarled challengingly to him, her tail whipping furiously over the ground.

Archangel blinked. "What's wrong with you?"

If Dara heard him at all, she didn't reveal it. Instead, she screamed, darting forward, feinting to the right and lunging, twisting in mid-air, her foot flying out and catching Archangel in the chin, sending him crashing into a wall.

Dara hit the ground running. She ran straight for Jean Grey, not staggering a bit as Jean tried to focus, gripping the sides of her head as she searched Dara's mind.

"I … c-can't …" Jean stammered, her body trembling more and more violently as she struggled to get a mental fix on Dara's conscience. "T-too … loud …!"

"JEAN!!!" Cyclops roared in terror, sweat trickling around his tightly closed eyes. "Get out of here!!"

Her strength disappearing, Jean fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Seeing her fall, Dara roared and ran harder, ready to strike down the weakened mutant.

"Dara, _knock it off!" _Rogue roared, blasting out of the living room, slamming into Dara at full tilt. Dara shrieked in rage, but before she could fully react, Rogue had pinned her arms to her sides.

"Gotchya!" Rogue cried, landing hard on the dining room floor. Wincing at how Dara screamed and struggled in her grip, Rogue twisted her head around to Psylocke, Archangel and Nightcrawler. "Y'all gonna give me a hand or _what?!"_

Crazed with fury, Dara lashed her tail out, slapping it across Rogue's cheek and eyes. Startled by the action, Rogue gasped, briefly loosening her hold.

A second was all it took. Driving her spiked elbows back into Rogue's ribs, Dara roared and whipped open her wings, throwing the woman off of her.

Glaring at Rogue, Dara turned and bolted for the hall, growling as Wolverine shot into the doorway.

"End o' the line, darlin'!" Wolverine snarled, raising a fist. With a hideous _shinkt!_, his adamantium claws shot out of his hand. "Time fer ya t' wake up!"

Dara gritted her fangs, but slowed her run as she approached Wolverine. She snarled softly, staring at him angrily.

Not believing it, Wolverine slowly lowered the claws. "What's goin' on, kid?"

Dara cocked her head at him oddly, not answering, save for her growling.

Suspicious, Wolverine took a step forward, reaching out with his free hand. "C'mon, Dara, come back t' us."

When his hand was centimeters from her cheek, Dara's eyes flashed a brighter red. With a scream, she snatched his wrist, holding fast.

"Dara--!" Startled, Wolverine lashed out with his claws, hoping to bluff her into releasing her death-grip on his hand. Surprise turned to absolute horror as she easily blocked his strike, a move he had never seen her execute before.

Roaring, she sprang, blindingly fast. She slammed into Wolverine, knocking him backwards, burying her fangs into his throat.

"DARA!!!" Wolverine roared, his eyes flying open in terror as he felt her tear his flesh, gulping down his blood with sickening gluttony.

His hands flew to her head, grabbing her by the scalp, trying to tear her off. Dara only gave a muffled roar and bit deeper, spilling dark, sticky blood down her chin, onto her chest. Her talons dug into him and she held tight, like a leech.

Suddenly, Wolverine's vision swam. He felt his legs go numb, his chest constrict. Gasping hoarsely, he staggered backwards, thudding against a wall and sliding to the ground, trying with all of his rapidly disappearing strength to push Dara away.

As his skin began to grow cold, it dawned on Wolverine that the more blood Dara drank, the slower his healing factor reacted. Gritting his teeth in pain and misery, he lifted a heavy fist and popped his claws.

Just as he drew his arm back to strike, Wolverine was blinded by a series of explosions around him.

Kinetically charged playing cards blasted into Dara, and she shrieked, ripping away her fangs from Wolverine's throat as she sprang sideways. A ribbon of blood snaking out from her stained teeth, she snarled low and threateningly at Gambit as he charged three more cards between his fingers.

"Don' say Gambit neva did anythin' fer ya, _mon ami_," Gambit growled, whipping his arm out and sending the cards singing through the air.

Dara hissed monstrously, ducking to avoid the first two cards, but catching the third full in the face. The card exploded shockingly loud, a flash of golden light and sparks blistering Dara's skin and searing her eyes.

She gave the air a piercing roar-scream as she reared back, clapping two bloodied hands to her face, blinded.

Wolverine fought to stay conscious, even as his healing factor kicked in full throttle. Blood roared through his ears even as his vision became hazy.

He stayed awake long enough to see Beast charge forward, taking aim with a small dart gun, firing a tranquilizer deep into Dara's chest, sending her bellowing and staggering into a corner.

Wolverine passed out just as she did.

**********

TWO HOURS LATER:

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Logan."

Jean's voice held an immeasurable degree of relief as Wolverine blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the clinic's neon lights. Grimacing, he shifted in the hospital bed, glancing oddly between Jean and Professor Xavier.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Surprised, Xavier and Jean glanced at each other, momentarily taken aback by Wolverine's question.

Setting his jaw, Xavier glanced back at Wolverine. "Dara is in her room at the moment … Logan, she did not mean to intentionally hurt you--"

"Yeah, I know that," Wolverine said, irritably tearing monitor wires off of his chest. "She jest got a taste o' my blood, s'all. She had told me that she didn't know if--"

Realizing that he didn't understand, Jean reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him. "Wolverine, we mean that Dara didn't _know_ what she was doing."

More surprised by her words than by her warm hand on his tricep, Wolverine's head snapped up, and he stared at Jean quizzically. "What?"

Xavier edged his hoverchair forward. "Beast's looking at all the notes we have so far, but we're all very much in agreement; we think that Dara has been conditioned to react to the word 'Beta'."

For a moment Wolverine stared at the professor in disbelief. Slowly, his eyes began to narrow. "Tell me everything."

The cold rage was evident in Wolverine's voice, but Xavier made no attempt to smother it. He knew better.

"Jean wasn't able to get a clear hold on Dara's mind when the girl reacted," the professor began, his brow furrowing as he struggled to keep his calm poise. "But when Rogue caught Dara, she was hit in the face slightly by Dara's tail. Their skin touched just long enough for Rogue to absorb some of Dara's memories.

"Jean and I explored Rogue's mind to see what she saw … what Dara had gone through. All of the memories were fragmented, and didn't necessarily come in order. But we could see clearly the labs Dara was kept in, particularly one where they deprived her of nearly all sensation."

Jean's face tightened angrily. "These scientists kept Dara in a cell, virtually denying her the right to hear or see or smell. They bombarded her with everything from high power lasers to military robots.

"They drove her nearly to the point of insanity, Wolverine. They kept torturing her, making her more vicious and violent, while Sinister stood by and taunted her, calling her 'Beta' seconds before she was attacked again."

"Dara learned to react violently when she heard her codename, Beta," Xavier continued. His voice was steady, but his face had paled, and a bright sweat gleamed on his forehead. "She was trained to be a sleeper agent of sorts. Sinister's plan was to have her--and other mutants like her--enter an installation, hear their codename … and, to put it bluntly, go berserk."

Xavier fell silent.

Wolverine didn't move.

Jean spoke up again, her voice cracking with rage. "Sinister was going to send Dara and other agents to places where he was opposed … the _Institute_ was even on the list!"

Wolverine remained frozen on the hospital bed, staring only at Xavier.

Whether Xavier couldn't stand to meet Wolverine's gaze, or was afraid to show his fury, Wolverine didn't know. Xavier only looked away, his eyes falling to his balled fists in his lap.

"But Dara learned to only respond to Sinister's voice," Xavier growled. He trembled slightly as he fought back the urge to scream. "These scientists couldn't condition her to respond only to her codename, and Sinister was furious. He ordered for Dara to be terminated. I think this is when she turned on Sinister, McCoy and Sevarius.

"Apparently, Dara's last coherent thoughts of the time were the Dark Beast's orders to have her poisoned, weakened so badly that she wouldn't be able to fight back when they killed her. Between poisonings, the scientists pulled her out of her cell to finish some tests … what kind they were, I don't know.

"But both the tests and poisons were effective enough to keep Dara from so much as lifting her head. She grew weak, and frequently fell comatose. This … this is where we can't extract any more information."

Wolverine remained still and silent, but inside his skull, he was screaming. He was slamming through the doors of that laboratory, slicing up the doctors, smashing the computers to pieces, obliterating the monitors, gutting Sevarius, ripping the Dark Beast open, cornering Sinister and carefully skinning the son of a bitch, tearing off his balls, cutting out his eyes, going completely insane, feral, finding Dara and dragging her out of there, carrying her away, stopping only to kill what got in their way, whatever followed them.

He slowly drew in a lung full of air. "Does Dara remember any of this?" Wolverine asked, calmly.

Hearing the lack of rage in his voice, Jean jerked away from his side, her mouth falling open. She stared at him in a mix of horror and revulsion, confused and angry at his calmness.

Xavier slowly lifted his head, understanding how Wolverine felt. "No … she's effectively pushed the conditioning sessions back into her subconscious. Even after she reacts to the code, she doesn't remember what she was thinking. In fact, she hardly remembers reacting at all."

Wolverine felt as though his chest was being crushed beneath a terrifying weight, something as big as a Sentinel. He couldn't swallow. He felt cold.

His eyes flickered over to Jean. "I've got to speak with her."

************

Wolverine fought the urge to run as he rounded the hallway corners, ignoring the steadily growing group of X-Men that followed behind him, pretending not to notice as Nightcrawler bounded after him, swearing softly in German.

All that really mattered was getting to Dara. Wolverine didn't know what he was going to say when he saw her, but he knew she would be frightened. Dara probably thought that he hated her for what she did. She might try to hide, or even beg Wolverine not to be angry.

Wolverine _was_ angry, but not at her.

He only wanted to comfort her.

Finding the closed door, Wolverine caught the doorknob, raising his fist to knock. Even as he did so, Wolverine could smell the lack of Dara's fresh scent in her room, couldn't hear her breathing.

His shoulders sagging and his heart growing heavy, Wolverine slowly opened her bedroom door, opening it wide enough to show the X-Men what he already knew.

The crack of lightning outside provided just enough illumination to show them the emptied drawers of her bureau, the skeletal, empty clothes hangers in her open closet, and the goodbye note taped to the lampshade on her desk.

Dara had run away.

******************************************************************************

7:49 PM:

The index card clasped in her hand, she hurriedly slipped several coins into the payphone, dialing the number he had written on the card for her.

Dara huddled closer to the payphone, unrolling the collar of her jacket as the rain began to patter down on her. Holding her duffel bag close to her body, she looked uneasily up the street, at several teenage boys who had gathered outside a decrepit drug store, watching her with expressions that did not make her feel comfortable.

He answered after the third ring. "Yes?"

Glad to hear his voice, Dara opened her mouth, but her words caught in her throat.

He paused. "Who is this?"

She swallowed hard. "It's me."

"Dara!"

"Y-yes."

"I was beginning to worry about you, child."

"I'm--I'm sorry …" Dara swallowed hard and risked another glance at the boys nearby. "I, uh, I'm--I'm taking you up on your offer, Mr. Leshnerr."

"You are?" He sounded both surprised and pleased.

Dara nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see her.

"Well, I'm very happy to hear this, Dara. What made you change your mind?"

She grimaced. "I … I did something … something happened, Mr. Leshnerr. At the Institute. I can't stay."

"I understand. Where are you?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Someplace in New York City." Lightning forked across the sky, shining across the boys' faces as they smiled, strangely. "Someplace I don't want to be."

"Say no more. I shall personally come and fetch you."

"Really? But …"

"Charles Xavier is not the only one in possession of a Lockheed aircraft. It won't take long for me to arrive from Genosha."

Dara was immensely relieved to hear that, even though she wasn't sure why. "Where should I meet you?"

"Are you close to the harbor?"

"Um, I think I can get there in a few minutes."

Dara's senses flared suddenly, and, her eyes widening, she spun around, seeing the boys starting towards her. She could feel what they were thinking. They were planning to do something less than virtuous to her.

Her claws slowly began to form on the tips of her fingers. "I'll meet you at the Statue of Liberty in twenty minutes."

"I'll be there."

"Thank you, Mr. Leshnerr."

Hanging up quickly, Dara snatched up her bag, swinging it over her shoulder. A rage was building in her chest, confusing her; she knew these assholes wanted to take advantage of her, like everyone else had. They wanted to hurt her, humiliate her.

And she really, really wanted to hurt them.

But should she?

Anger getting the better of her, Dara started towards them, her fangs bared, her snarl drowned out by the snarl of the thunder overhead.

One of the four boys hesitated, as if surprised to see that she was coming towards them. Dara could sense his sudden unease, his wonderment at why she didn't turn and hurry away, like all of their other victims had done.

"I know what you fags are thinking," Dara growled, holding back her true form just a little bit longer. "One look was all it took to tell me that you four dickheads wanted to get me in an alley."

The one boy who had hesitated earlier now stopped walking entirely, looking alarmed. His three friends had slowed only somewhat, looking at each other and laughing, trying to hide their confusion and amusement.

Dara couldn't hold back her rage anymore. As a bolt of lightning cracked nearby, Dara transformed entirely, becoming the monster they had made her into.

"_Jesus Christ!"_ the fourth would-be rapist screamed, his eyes all but popping out of his skull.

Dara felt herself smile as the four bastards reeled backwards, trying to turn and run and yet keep the monster in sight. Casually dropping her bag beside her, Dara spun around and lashed her tail out, tripping all four and sending them crashing to the gritty pavement, their cries and screams mixing with the roar of the thunder and lightning.

Oddly pleased by their terror, Dara shrugged off her jacket, calmly dropping it on her bag. With a soft, growling laugh she turned and pounced on the four, ripping into them, sending their blood splattering onto the surrounding buildings and the passing cars, a few of which actually sped away when they saw her.

The scent of the coppery blood made Dara's stomach growl, but she was disgusted by the thought of taking even a _taste_ of that diseased blood.

Besides … she knew the perfect place to put this sewage.

Finding a sewer grate, Dara easily took each bleeding, swearing, sobbing bastard by the scruff of their filthy, torn necks, dropping them into the waist high sludge, undisturbed by their horrified cries.

"This's where scum like you four assholes belong!" she roared, flinging the fourth broken, whimpering thug down into the reeking pit. With her glimmering eyes, she could see beautifully. She watched as the beasts staggered through the sewage, moaning in agony.

Picking up the manhole cover easily in one filthy hand, Dara grinned down at the ones who thought they could take advantage of her again. "Say hello to the other rats for me."

One of the bastards gave a shrill scream of horror as Dara slammed the cover back onto the manhole, throwing her weight against so it bent, sticking in the hole so tightly that they wouldn't get out on their own.

Dara knelt there by the sewer, her pointed ears catching their bitter curses and hateful screams. For a minute, she grinned, enjoying it all.

That minute passed quickly though, and Dara gazed down at the sewer, frightened at first, wondering if she had done something horrible.

Did she just take her revenge out on the wrong people? Or had she punished the villains, and saved many more women from becoming victims, like she had been?

Remembering that Mr. Leshnerr would be coming soon, Dara shook her unease off. Grabbing her coat and bag, Dara vaulted up onto the drugstore roof, not noticing the frightened faces of the storeowner and his customers as they watched her pass.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder again, Dara broke into a run, leaping from roof to roof.

This was so much safer than walking on the street.

******

The Jeep thudded heavily over something in the street, and Beast gave a grunt as the top of his fuzzy head smacked the car ceiling. "I believe you just ran over a hobo, Cyclops."

Not truly listening, Cyclops scanned the rain-slicked sidewalks at the throng of people that scurried for cover. "I can't see her. Anything, Wolverine?"

Snorting, Wolverine pulled his head back into the Jeep, shaking off a wave of rainwater. "Nada," he snarled, pressing a button to raise the car window. "The rain's washed her scent clean away."

"Isn't Storm sending it away?" Beast asked, clutching a vial of tranquilizer against his chest. "It'd be so much easier find Dara if I didn't feel like Noah rounding up the animals."

Cyclops still didn't hear him. "This may sound ridiculous to ask, but why in the world would Dara run away like that?"

Wolverine suppressed a growl as he glanced to Beast in the backseat. "I shoulda known she'd split. She's been scared of this happenin' ever since we brought 'er to the Institute."

"Where would she go?" Beast asked, leaning forward to peer through the watery windshield. "Knowing Dara, she wouldn't waltz right into the Plaza Hotel …though I'm sure she'd be tempted."

Beast barely finished speaking when the X-Jeep's radio gave a piercing squawk. Wolverine's hand had already shot out and snatched away the receiver before Cyclops could even lift a finger. "Go ahead, 'Crawler."

"Professor X just contacted us!" Nightcrawler said, trying to raise his voice as Gambit loudly cursed the New York traffic. "He's located Dara's aura a moment ago. She's moving in the direction of the Statue of Liberty."

Hearing that, Beast and Cyclops shared a baffled look. "The Statue?" they said in unison.

Wolverine didn't allow himself to wonder at this. "Are ya anywhere close t' it?"

"We're at least two blocks from the docks, but this _Verdammt_ traffic …!"

"Just get there quick! Phoenix with ya?"

"She's with Archangel and Storm--they're already on their way."

"Okay, good, we'll see ya there."

As Wolverine moved to put the receiver back on its hook, Nightcrawler gave a horrified yowl as Gambit apparently took their Jeep to the New York sidewalks.

Shaking his head once, Cyclops slapped the directional lights on. "Maybe Jean can cut her off."

Wolverine grimaced, planting his hands on the dashboard as Cyclops took a corner too sharply. "It's almost nighttime. Dara's powers are stronger after dark. I hope Jeannie didn't forget that!"

"Whoop!" Beast thudded into the opposite passenger door as Cyclops straightened his turn. "Egh! Uh, be assured, that _I_ did not forget--Scott, easy!--about Dara's powers. I brought more tranqs, just incaaaaaaaaaaaaase!!!!"

Cyclops whipped around another corner, just barely missing a homeless man with a shopping cart. Beneath his visor, Cyclops's mouth twisted into a wince. "Sorry about that."

"Cyclops!!" Beast roared, one paw flailing for a handhold. "If you don't start to drive more sanely, I WILL be forced to use the tranqs on you!"

Gritting his teeth as Cyclops rocketed down a back alley, Wolverine gazed almost sadly at the settling darkness.

He worried for a moment. For Dara.

****************

The rain had ceased to fall, but the thunder still rumbled threateningly through the clouds as Dara launched herself into the air, gliding up to the head of the majestic Lady Liberty, where a small, black aircraft hovered.

She gave the cloaked man a somewhat weak smile as she angled her wings for the Statue's crown, fighting the salty winds as they gusted upwards.

From behind his helmet, the man smiled, looking genuinely happy to see her. He started towards her as she landed uneasily, his purple capes whipping out behind him.

"I was ready to begin worrying!" he said, extending his hands to her as he approached. "You weren't here when I arrived."

Dara's smile grew only slightly wider as she accepted his outstretched hands. "I … got a little sidetracked," she said, not knowing whether or not she should tell him what happened. "And the storm slowed me down some."

"No matter," the man said lightly, drawing his hands away long enough to remove his helmet.

Seeing the human face unmasked made Dara feel suddenly less apprehensive. She truly smiled to see him. "Thank you, Mr. Leshnerr."

"Dara, I prefer 'Magneto'," he chided lightly. Grinning, he took her hand and gently pulled her towards his silently hovering mini jet. "Now, we should leave before your friends catch up with you."

"Y-yeah." Allowing Magneto to guide her to the jet, Dara glanced back over her shoulder, to the sparkling city on the banks. She bit her lower lip, wondering what Wolverine was thinking. Was he still angry with her? Did he hate her? Did it bother him at all that she left?

With a simple sweep of his hand, Magneto willed open the jet's hatch doors. Smiling, he turned to Dara. "After you, miss."

Startled by his voice, Dara whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. Seeing Magneto there, in his red armor and purple capes, like he had so often been shown in news reports and political magazines and even want ads, made Dara's stomach lurch. She hesitated, staring at him for a moment, then back at New York City, where the X-Men must have been searching for her.

Magneto's grip on her hand increased slightly, gently. "Dara?"

This time, she didn't stir at his voice. She only gazed at what be the last time she ever saw humanity, as it was. When she stepped into Magneto's jet, Dara knew she would become one of his Brotherhood of Mutants, that now humanity was her enemy, and that the only time she may ever see them again would be on a battlefield.

Her heart seized in her chest: what about Logan?

"A-am I doing the right thing?" she asked, her voice trembling fiercely. Swallowing hard, Dara turned back to Magneto, angrily aware that her eyes were filling with tears. "I know a lot of people hate me …"

Magneto's eyes suddenly became hard, and his smile evaporated. "A lot of _humans_ hate what you_ are_," he said, his voice quietly cold. "Given the chance, they'd kill you. Or worse. You _are_ doing the right thing by leaving them all."

Nearby, lightning split the black sky, and thunder snapped furiously, as though impatient at her hesitance. But Dara just _didn't know, wasn't sure_. Could she just up and leave, just like that? Leave Wolverine? And Kurt? And her friends? Her family?

His brow furrowing, Magneto suddenly yanked Dara forward, towards the plane. Dara was too startled to do anything but gasp and listen to her toe claws skitter protestingly against the human statue head.

"Listen to me!" Magneto hissed, taking her roughly by the shoulders. "This is not the time to have second thoughts! Dara, I want to help you, but first you must trust what I am doing!"

"Magneto, let go!"

"Dara--"

Magneto's grip on her shoulders became bruising. Confused, Dara allowed her eyes to flare a brilliant red.

Snarling viciously, Dara pushed herself towards Magneto, snapping her fangs brutally at his face. Startled, Magneto loosened his hold momentarily, giving Dara enough of a chance to slip out of his hands.

Springing backwards, Dara landed in a half crouch, growling at Magneto's bewildered look.

"Look, Magneto!" she roared over the thunder, "I've made so many mistakes and I've been hurt by so many people that I really don't know what to do anymore!

"But I'm sick of living in fear all the time! If you try to force me to go with you to Genosha, I swear, _I will rip your goddamn rib cage out and wear it like a fucking party hat!"_

For a second, Magneto's eyes widened.

Surprised, Dara straightened, reaching out with this tele-empathy or whatever the hell Jean called it. She could sense Magneto's emotions right now.

And he was frightened of her.

Slowly, the fear faded away, replaced with something that felt like regret. Magneto's shoulders slumped slightly.

"I'm sorry, Dara," he said, his voice drowning in the wind and thunder. "I didn't mean to …"

As he spoke, Dara's pointed ears pricked up, catching a strange drone beneath the noise of the storm and the ocean.

Her eyes narrowed. "Magneto … shut up for a second."

Magneto froze in mid-speech. "What?"

"Ssh!" Disturbed by the noise as it seemed to double and well up from the harbor, Dara slowly stood up, straining her ears to find the source of the noise.

As the noise grew, a chill settled on Dara's body. A feeling of dread seeped into her gut, and, slowly, Dara began to feel emotions, drawn away from several people nearby.

Finally, the noise and emotions grew deafening, and both Dara and Magneto spun around in horror, momentarily blinded by the searchlight mounted on the helicopter's nose.

Flinging up a hand to shield her eyes, Dara groaned. "Ah, _hell_."

A hammering wail cut through the cool air, and a flurry of bright explosions raced along the top of the Statue's head as machine gun bullets ricocheted against the bronze, snaking their way towards Dara. Unable to see in the glare, Dara snarled, squeezing her eyes shut and springing forward, picking out Magneto's aura, and then his scent as raised his hands skyward, creating a magnetic shield around him, slowing the oncoming bullets.

"Magneto, get out of here!" Dara roared, lunging forward for him blindly. She swung her arm out, feeling the bones connect with heavy armor and hearing Magneto give a startled grunt as she knocked him off of his feet.

As she caught the Statue's textured head with her hands, flipping her body upright, Dara turned her head away from the spotlight as it swiveled to follow her. Grimacing, she opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by the bright hazes on her retinas. They cleared quickly enough to show Dara that she had pushed Magneto back into his jet, and now the plane's hatches were folding up, locking Magneto in.

'_If he knows what's good for him, he'd better get the hell out of here,_' Dara thought fretfully. Landing hard on her arched feet, Dara launched herself off of the Statue's crown, leaping as though she intended to plunge straight into the harbor.

Slowly unfolding her wings, Dara twisted her head around, seeing the helicopter wheel away from the Statue of Liberty, its searchlight scanning wildly around for her.

Feeling the updraft buffeting her body, Dara threw her wings open, grunting as the wind stretched her wing membrane. She swallowed hard, and carefully turned with the wind, struggling to remember what Archangel had told her about updraft turns--

Suddenly, her brain fogged. A memory crept in, about swooping through a training room, speeding past a viewing window, seeing two eyes like rubies glittering at her as his skull-like face smiled.

As suddenly as the memory came, it disappeared. Dara felt a jolt go through her as she soared up along the helicopter, meeting the bewildered eyes of the armed men there.

Confused, Dara tried to twist away; she wanted to fly _under_ the chopper, but that memory …

As she shot away from the helicopter, she saw a bolt of white light out of the corner of her eyes, followed almost immediately by head-splitting roar of thunder.

Dara gasped, feeling something fast and hot slam into her chest, just below her collarbone. The air was viciously squeezed out of her lungs, and as Dara tried to swing away, back to the Statue, she wheezed, then choked. She tasted blood and bile in her mouth.

A burning, tingling sensation grew in her right shoulder, spreading down through her chest. Dizzy, Dara banked hard to the left.

"Oh!" she cried, the tip of her left wing catching on the rail of the Statue's torch. Dara heard herself give a howling scream as she slammed into the torch, cracking the fiberglass.

Dara tumbled to the catwalk circling around the torch, not really noticing that she smacked her forehead against the grillwork as she landed.

The right side of her body felt icy cold, and, not knowing what else to do, Dara slowly sat up, snarling at the sickening pain. Leaning back against the torch, Dara suddenly realized that her left hand was planted against her chest, between her breast and collarbone. Her beige shirt had suddenly turned red, and clung oddly to her skin.

Wondering, Dara slowly withdrew her hand, her shirt momentarily sticking to her palm. Pulling it away, Dara gazed down at the blood that coated her hand. She blinked, then glanced down at the gaping hole in her chest. Every time she drew in a ragged breath, a little more blood surged out.

"Oh." Not sure what had happened to her, and yet knowing what the men in the helicopter had done, Dara returned her hand to her chest. Wincing once, she watched as the helicopter swung low over the Statue's head, dropping several dark figures off.

The helicopter quickly wheeled away, back out towards the harbor. The figures immediately fanned out over the Statue's head, nine of them taking up positions while another darted forward, vaulting up the Statue's raised arm.

Landing neatly on the torch's rail like a lithe cat, holding a beastly gun at his side, the leathery skinned mutant grinned down at her. "Hi Beta."

Dara stared at him, not frightened, but feeling greatly annoyed. "Who …?"

"I work for Sinister," the mutant said flippantly, hopping down beside her. "Him an' McCoy want you gone. Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you?"

"Wh--?" Blood boiled in Dara's chest, choking her and cutting her words short.

"Normally, the villain is supposed to explain everything to hero before he kills her," the mutant said, pulling some sort of tab on the side of the gun. The weapon clicked loudly as a bullet was loaded into the chamber.

Another image slithered through Dara's mind as she watched him cock the gun; she had been made to use that gun in one of the tests. M-16. She had to use it to destroy multiple targets. They used it on her when they simulated battles in the training rooms. Used real bullets too.

The vision faded, and suddenly, Dara was staring down the muzzle of the gun.

The mutant didn't make any dramatic comment, like Dara had half-expected. She surprised herself by sighing resignedly.

As the mutant inched the gun's mouth closer to Dara's right eye--making sure that he could not miss--the radio clipped to his shirt suddenly crackled to life, making him jump. Dara only looked at it dully, uninterested.

Giving Dara a brief glare of annoyance, the mutant took a step backwards, keeping his gun trained on her as he reached for the radio. "What is it?"

A burst of static nearly drowned the frightened voice out. "We got a problem!"

One of the mutant's brow ridges rose suspiciously. "What kind of problem?"

His partner's answer came back almost immediately.

"YEEEEAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

Swearing vehemently, the mutant spun around, hissing in rage as he looked down to the Statue's head. Despite her exhaustion, Dara made herself sit up on her knees and peer down to where the screams and gunfire resounded.

It was complete chaos below her. The four strange mutants that had remained on the head were surrounded by dozens of X-Men, some of whom Dara didn't even recognize.

The X-Men were darting or swooping back and forth, dodging the new mutants' mix of gunfire and mutant powers. In the distance, the helicopter that had pursued Dara spun crazily in a mini-cyclone Storm had whipped up in the harbor. Rogue and Archangel were yanking the attackers' reinforcements out of the cabin and carelessly tossing them to the polluted waters below.

Dara felt herself smile faintly as she saw a maddened Wolverine charge the largest of the mutants on the Statue while Nightcrawler furiously 'bamfed' between one mutant with a pincer tail and another that spat venom, bashing them repeatedly in the head.

As Cyclops blasted a spike-covered monster straight off of the Statue's crown, Beast tore past him, batting another mutant out of the way as he raced for the Statue's raised arm. "One side please! Blue simian mutant on a mission here!"

Dara's assassin snarled, baring a row of plate-like teeth. "You bastard!" he hissed, hefting the M-16 up against his shoulder.

Dara's eyes flew open in a sudden, amazed horror as she watched the mutant take aim, as Beast clearly saw the mutant lining him up in the cross-hairs of his scope, but kept running, climbing up the arm.

Forgetting the canyon that was torn into her chest, Dara was on her feet and lunging, her blood-caked hands flung out.

A wet roar ripped out of her throat as Dara caught the gun's muzzle with both hands. Her eyes flaring, she tore the gun out of the mutant's hands, snapping the muzzle off, throwing both it and the gun's body to the black waters under the torch.

She felt something like a heavy canvas tearing inside of her as she spun around, snarling at mutant. His own eyes were a glowing white as he tore towards her, whipping a knife out of the wrist sheath he had hidden under his sleeve.

The knife caught her in the ribs, ripping open something heavy inside. Dara didn't feel the pain; she only felt a sudden rage at the mutant, like he had defiled her in some way.

His sheer weight knocked her on her back, but Dara was already recovering, flinging her head forward so her brow ridges smashed into the mutant's nose, fairly obliterating it.

The mutant reared back, roaring, blinded by the blood and pain. There was no way he could have stopped Dara as threw herself at him, catching him by the chin and scalp.

Blackness began to settle into Dara's eyes as she twisted the mutant's head around, snapping his neck in half. The noise was thunderous to those nearby, but Dara didn't hear it.

Allowing the body to slide out of her hands, Dara staggered backwards, falling against the torch and sliding to the ground.

Her body felt too heavy to support, and she allowed herself to pitch to the catwalk, barely noting her blood as it started to pool beneath her.

Her ears felt like they had been packed with cotton, so Dara wasn't sure she actually heard someone call her name. The muffled voice spoke again, and suddenly, Beast's face popped up from over the edge of the catwalk.

His blue eyes flew open in terror when he saw the blood, the wounds in her body. "D-Dara!"

Ready to fall asleep, Dara gazed at the monster as he scrambled up to the torch in a panic, crying her name.

He was coming to take her back.

Not caring anymore, Dara closed her eyes, feeling the pain evaporate, and a chill begin to blanket her.

******************************************************************************

"… She's coming out of it, Hank!"

"Increase the ether flow, Jean!"

Faces seemed to hover over her, cloaked in white, haloed by a huge neon light from the sky above.

It would have been heaven, if not for the scalpel held in the woman's hand.

Dara faded back into the dark.

******************************************

" ... C'mon Dara, come back to us …"

"I'm not getting a pulse!"

"Dammit, Dara!"

A hot mouth clamped down on hers, forcing air into her chest.

Her head spun. A tear slid out from one eye.

She went back to sleep.

******************************************

The first thing Dara noticed was the absolute, white hot, searing, vomit-inducing pain.

Her eyelids rose heavily, slowly, sticky. She stared up for a moment at the white tiles of the ceiling above her, not knowing what she was looking at.

Maybe she was still asleep. Maybe she was still dreaming.

Dara couldn't move; it hurt to even breathe. When she realized that it wasn't so painful to move her eyes, she swept her limited range of sight over the tubings, the IV bags, the monitors, the white cotton sheets and the wooly blue blanket.

In a hospital again. Wonderful.

Dara swallowed hard, wincing at how dry her mouth and throat were. "Hello?" she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone …?"

No one answered her, and Dara turned her eyes heavenward, wondering.

She fell asleep again, later waking to pain that was a teeny bit better than what she felt earlier. Happy to find that she could move her stiff fingers, Dara searched for one of those buzzer thingies that they used to call nurses. Not finding one, she sighed in annoyance.

"Hello?" she called, her voice still soft and hoarse. "Hello! I'm--I'm awake!"

She frowned at the silence, a little worried.

Dara drew in a deep breath from the oxygen tubes. "Hey!"

"Huh? Whazzat?"

Startled to hear the voice, Dara tried to lift her head, straining to see whom it was who spoke. The agony was too much, and Dara bit back a snarl, dropping her head back to the pillow.

Suddenly, the voice gasped. "Oh my God … Dara!!"

Seeing the wild black hair made Dara smile despite her agony. She laughed softly as Wolverine gathered her hand up in one of his, placing the other one gently on her forehead.

"Where am I?" she whispered, running her thumb over his knuckles. "I don't really remember anything."

"The clinic. S'okay, Dara, yer all right."

Dara looked up into his relieved eyes curiously. "How'd I get here?"

"Ya were hurt … Hang on, I'll prop ya up." Removing his hand from her forehead, Wolverine reached over the headboard of Dara's bed, pressing a button on a panel. Slowly, the back of the bed rose, easing Dara into a sitting position.

As her range of sight improved, Dara was surprised to see Dr. McCoy slumped over a desk nearby. His shoulders rose rhythmically with his soft snoring, muffled slightly by the rumpled white lab coat he wore.

Smiling, Wolverine drew a wheeled stool to Dara's bedside. "Hank's been down 'ere fer th' last three days," he said, glancing briefly at the sleeping mutant. "He hasn't left the clinic at all."

"He stayed down here?"

Wolverine nodded. "Didn't wanna leave ya, darlin'. Me an' Kurt an' Warren kept taken turns watchin' ya an' all, but Hank hasn't stepped foot outta the clinic. I'm startin' to wonder if he's realized he hasn't showered in a while."

Not fully understanding what Wolverine was telling her, Dara glanced back at Beast. "He's been watching me."

"Yeah … he an' Jeannie operated on ya soon as they got ya back 'ere." Wolverine's eyes narrowed briefly, and his voice grew cold. "That bullet punched straight through yer lung, Dara."

"It did?" Dara had forgotten that she had been shot at all.

Wolverine frowned, then sighed heavily, looking away from her. Dara wasn't able to identify all of the emotions he felt at the moment.

"I got scared fer a little while, kid," he said softly, gazing at Beast. "By any right, ya should be dead. I--I didn't want to think that, though. I love ya, kid."

Dara's eyes flew open.

"Yer like a daughter t'me, Dara."

Dara could actually feel her heart tear in half. A nausea grew in her, but Wolverine, not looking at her, didn't notice.

"When you were on th' table," he continued, his voice thick, "yer heart stopped. Hank actually performed mouth t' mouth. He was afraid he'd hurt ya if he used the paddles on ya."

Wolverine returned his gaze to her. Misinterpreting the tears that streaked her face, Wolverine carefully leaned forward, wiping them away with his thumb. "Don't cry, honey. Yer okay now."

"Am I?" Her words came out unintentionally vicious.

Wolverine blinked, surprised by the acidity. "Yeah … Hank saved yer life. Y'know, he even kept th' lights out down 'ere, most o' the time, t' help yer healing process."

Dara wanted to scream. She wanted Wolverine to go, leave her alone.

Instead, she swallowed hard. "Can you wake Beast up for me?"

"Sure, darlin'." Standing, Wolverine leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. Dara wanted to tear his throat out.

Quickly, quietly, Wolverine crossed the infirmary, catching Beast by the shoulder and shaking him awake.

Startled, Beast sat bolt upright. Groggily, he whipped his head around, looking for the intruder, but Wolverine whispered something that caught Beast's attention. Looking amazed, Beast spun around, fairly gaping at Dara.

Leaping out of his chair, Beast sprinted to Dara's side, stammering her name.

Somehow, Dara was able to smile. "Hank … I want to apologize."

Hearing that, Beast stopped short, almost sliding into the IV rack by her bed. "Wh-what?"

"I'm sorry I made you feel so bad before," she whispered, reaching out for one of his furry paws. "I didn't really want to believe that you were innocent. I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me."

For what seem like an eternity, all Beast did was stare at her, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

Both hurt and amused, Dara gave Beast's chest a light swap. "What're you trying to do, catch flies?"

Beast gave a jolt, and his eyes opened even wider, like he couldn't believe that Dara had just made a joke. Behind him, Wolverine laughed, more at Beast's shock than at Dara's remark.

Finally, Beast's eyes softened, and he smiled, relieved. Clasping Dara's white hand in both of his warm, fuzzy ones, Beast leaned forward. "Apology accepted," he murmured, stifling a chuckle.

******************************************************************************

EPILOGUE, DEC. 20, 2001:

For once, Xavier was happy to have the X-Men gathered in his office.

For once, the meeting was not about something terrible.

Dumping the last of the Twinkies out onto his lap, Beast tossed the box aside before dutifully passing the sugary cakes out amongst his teammates. "So Professor, what ails us this time?" Remembering his manners, Beast extended a Twinkie towards Xavier. "Twinkie?"

Hiding a grimace, Xavier politely shook his head. "No, thank you Hank. And this meeting is not about something negative."

Surprised to hear that, both of Wolverine's heavy eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Then why're we 'ere, Chuck? A little too early fer Christmas presents, dontchya think?"

"Perhaps not." Sending a mental note to the figure nearby, Xavier fell silent, giving his students only a mysterious smile.

As the door quietly opened, Storm gave a surprised gasp and Nightcrawler sat straight up, dropping his Twinkie in amazement.

Smiling, Dara stepped into the room, her gargoyle-like form clad in a yellow and blue jumpsuit.

Chuckling at the baffled faces around her, Dara placed her clawed hands on either hip, standing jovially before her teammates. "'Kay guys, this's is it. I'm an X-Man now.

"My code-name is Nyx; it means 'goddess of the night'."

THE END


End file.
